


A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Oblivion

by sabrecmc



Series: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Oblivion [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Identity Porn, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Memory Loss, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 66,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/pseuds/sabrecmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mr….Mr. Stark?” the man asked, shaking his head as if to clear it, grip convulsing spasmodically on Tony’s hand.</p><p>“That’s me,” Tony responded gruffly.  Of course the man recognized him.  His face had been everywhere before the whole Iron Man thing and now…well, now…so yeah, totally understandable.  Guy was probably thinking of his lawyer’s speed dial number.  “Look, ambulance is on its way, okay, so just sit tight.  You’re going to be fine.” </p><p>“I—I think I missed my date,” the blond man said.  And promptly passed out. </p><p>Or, how Tony accidentally kidnapped Captain America and then wanted to keep him.</p><p>Update:  NSFW Fanart by superfizz in Chapter 18 and SFW Fanart by Gregory Welter in Chapter 19</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Remind me again why I didn’t just take the armor?” Tony asked Happy as they sat at a standstill in New York City traffic.  He was late for his midtown meeting, but it wasn’t like they were really going to start without him.  Still.  Sitting in traffic was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon.  “Can’t you get around this?” He could swear he was able to hear impatient honking all the way down to Times Square.

“Sorry, Boss.  It’s pretty bumper-to-bumper up here.  Construction or something goin’ on,” Happy replied congenially.  Of course, sitting in traffic didn’t really bother a chauffeur. 

“JARVIS?” Tony called into his phone.  “Alternate route, please.”

“Calculating best alternative route now, Sir.  I have taken the liberty of sending the directions to your phone, as well as to Mr. Hogan’s,” the AI responded promptly.  Gotta love technology. 

“Hap, make it happen, my man,” Tony instructed, sitting back in his seat and going back to tapping away at the designs for the new suit.  He shifted slightly as the car veered suddenly off the street and down what appeared to be an alleyway, cutting past several blocks of stalled traffic.  “This doesn’t seem to exactly fit the definition of ‘street’ here, JARVIS,” Tony said drolly as the car careened past a dumpster. 

“Makin’ good time though, eh Boss,” Happy said confidently as he maneuvered the car into another narrow alley.  Tony imagined he could reach out the window and snatch the pot of flowers off one of the windowsills they passed.  Through sheer force of will, he didn’t hunch in on himself as the alley narrowed, and made himself focus on the designs illuminated on the tablet’s screen. 

Which is why he had absolutely no warning to brace himself or take any kind of defensive posture when the car suddenly impacted against something as they passed through an intersection in the alley, then twisted sharply, scraped against the brick of the side of the building and knocking into something that clanged loudly as it flew into the air and bounced off the roof of the car to land behind them.  Tony had just enough time to think “garbage can” before he Tony tumbled forward, tablet becoming a projectile as Happy hit the brakes with a stunted, “Holysh—“ and something….something solid connected with the front of the car, Tony felt the impact, but then the airbags deployed and he couldn’t see shit except a giant white pillow in his face and powdery dust in his nose and mouth. 

“Ha—Happy?  You okay?”  Tony asked, moving gingerly to reach for the man in the front seat. 

“Yeah…yeah…I’m…I’m okay, Boss, but…uh, I think we hit something,” Happy choked out.  It was more the way he said it than what he actually said, because, yeah, Tony’d felt the brunt of the impact, too.  But Happy’s voice quavered a bit, held enough trepidation that Tony caught the undertone a moment before Happy said it out loud.

“Or someone.”

 _Crap_.

“I’m jammed in here, Boss…door is smashed in a bit and won’t open.  Can you…can you get out?” Happy asked, turning back to look at Tony as best he could under the circumstances.

Tony tried the door handle and with a couple of solid pushes against the frame, managed to get the door opened enough to wedge his way out.  He was at the back of the car now, and stretched his neck up to try to see to the front, but couldn’t quite make anything out other than that his car was pretty beat up and had managed to hit at least a couple of trash cans, including the one that had leapfrogged over the car, as the alleyway was littered with garbage and God-knows-what-all.  Testing his back and neck a bit, he carefully climbed on the trunk of the car and over the roof, sliding off the hood to the ground. 

Which was when he saw the man.

He was sprawled against the brick wall that formed the side of one of the buildings that formed the intersection, just a few feet in front of the car’s front fender. 

“Oh, Jesus…” Tony breathed, taking in the smashed front of his car and the caved-in shape of brick outlining the man’s prone form.  He knelt down and reached out to run his hand through the man’s blond hair, looking for a head injury.  His fingers came away slick with blood.  Ok, so that was concerning.  He wiped his hand on his suit jacket before finally settling it on the man’s shoulder, shaking the man ever so gently.

 “Hey…hey there…you with me?”  Tony asked quietly, as he looked back over his shoulder to shout at Happy, but the good man was already on his phone, nodding in silent answer to Tony’s questioning look.  Tony turned back to the man on the ground and heard a low groan.  At least the guy was alive and breathing.

Tony felt the man’s body jerk under where he had settled his hand on the man’s shoulder, and with a quickness belied by his current state, the man moved a hand up to grab Tony’s where it sat on his shoulder.  The man’s grip was surprisingly strong, so Tony counted that as a good sign.

“You…you took quite a hit there…how…um…how are you feeling…anything broken?” Tony asked, pitching his voice as low and soothing as he could, and throwing another look over his shoulder at Happy, for once impatient for the sound of sirens.

The man shook his head a bit and then lifted his head to look up at Tony, and oh.  Oh, wow.  Ok.  Um…so ogling the person you just nearly ran over was probably not on, but, um, yeah.  Impossibly blue eyes focused intently up at him, confusion marring his features and then…something shifted as he looked at Tony. 

“Mr….Mr. Stark?” the man asked, shaking his head as if to clear it, grip convulsing spasmodically on Tony’s hand.

“That’s me,” Tony responded gruffly.  Of course the man recognized him.  His face had been everywhere before the whole Iron Man thing and now…well, now…so yeah, totally understandable.  Guy was probably thinking of his lawyer’s speed dial number.  “Look, ambulance is on its way, okay, so just sit tight.  You’re going to be fine.”

“I—I think I missed my date,” the blond man said.  And promptly passed out.

Great, just great, Tony thought as he caught the slumping body against his shoulder, causing him to fall backwards with the solid weight of it and land haphazardly in a pile of limbs on the pavement.  “Happy…what’s an ETA on the ambulance?”  Tony called out, alarm starting to build, though he could feel the man’s steady breathing against his chest as he cradled him there.  He wrapped a hand around the man’s wrist and found the pulse strong, if a bit rapid.  “Hang in there, buddy,” Tony found himself whispering, running hands soothingly over the man’s impossibly broad back and shoulders. 

“Said five minutes out, Boss,” Happy shouted from inside the car. 

Five minutes.  That wasn’t a long time until you were sitting in a New York City alley with a possibly dying man leaning against your shoulder.  Then it felt something akin to an eternity.  He kept rubbing up and down the man’s back, not sure if he was trying to help keep the man steady or keep his own panic at bay.  Finally, he heard the telltale sound of sirens closing in and breathed a long sigh of relief as red and white strobe lights lit the alleyway. 

Thank fuck, Tony thought as the EMTs hopped out of the back of the ambulance, medical bags in tow, and rushed over to him. 

“Are you ok, Sir?” one of them asked.

“I’m fine.  Fine.  Just…he…help him…” Tony stuttered, trying to reposition the man to lay him down to give the medics access, but somehow managing to end up with the man sprawled across his lap.

“Ok.  Thank you, sir.  We have this,” the other medic said, starting to check the man’s vitals and placing an oxygen mask connected to small bag he was steadily pumping over the man’s nose and mouth.  Tony found himself oddly unwilling to relinquish the man now that help was here.  As if he let him go, something terrible would happen. Which was crazy.  These people were here to help.  They were the rescue he’d been waiting on. 

Still, he didn’t let go, just cradled the man in his arms while they checked pulse and breathing and whatever else they were doing.  They seemed to come to a simultaneous decision, as one of them stood up briskly and headed back to the ambulance to off-load a gurney with the aid of the ambulance driver.  Another paramedic had managed to get Happy’s door open and was shining a small penlight in his eyes, Tony noticed for the first time.  After what seemed like an interminable time and yet too quickly, the man was being strapped onto a board and loaded onto the gurney, then shoved into the back of the ambulance.  Happy, too, as it turned out, though Happy was recounting his name, birthday and who the President was, so he supposed it was more a precautionary measure than anything. 

He jumped when someone grasped his wrist, realizing he’d been watching the back of the ambulance where the medics continued to work on the man they’d hit. 

“Just checking,” the EMT said, keeping time on his watch as he assessed Tony’s pulse.  “You can ride along in the front, if you’d like.  It would probably be a good idea to let the doctor check you out anyway.  If you’ve had a head injury, you don’t want to take any chances,” the man said, almost by rote. 

“Uh…sure.  Sure, yeah.  I’ll go,” Tony said, rising to his feet and congratulating himself on only being a tad unsteady.  He could hear Happy insisting he was fine from inside the back of the ambulance, trying to tell the poor EMT which tow company to call for the car.  He couldn’t hear anything from the man.  He saw that they apparently had an IV going though and were calling something in, presumably to the waiting ER.  Tony climbed into the cab, stifling a slight groan.  He was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.  Getting thrown around the back of a car just wasn’t what it used to be, he thought with macabre humor as the ambulance flashed its lights, sounded its siren and took off down the alley. 

Tony managed to spare a thought that they were making good time, considering the traffic.

Tony hated hospitals, he really did.  But he might hate hospital waiting rooms even more.  The months’ old magazines shouting old news telling everyone who came here that time didn’t matter anymore once you were inside the doors.  The stale coffee in Styrofoam cups, one sad choice of sweetener packets, the sugar and creamer long-ago clumped beyond use.  It was a place you came to get bad news and hear how it was for the best, then get the hell out.  It wasn’t a staying room, after all.

Happy should be discharged soon, thank God.  It turned out that he had a couple of cracked ribs from the seatbelt and a possible concussion from the impact of the airbag.  As for the man they’d hit…Tony wasn’t a medical expert, but he could tell when people were stumped, and whatever was going on with the man, the doctors were obviously at a loss.  They chattered, shared long looks, consulted charts, nodded solemnly and looked at their machines, but he knew they weren’t getting anything that made sense to them. 

That was hardly comforting.  Meanwhile, last they'd told Tony, the man hadn’t regained consciousness. 

 _God-dammit_.  Tony scrubbed his face with his hand as he shifted in the stiff-backed plastic waiting room chair.  He jerked his head around as the doors opened into the waiting room.  A nurse looked down at her clipboard and shouted, “Stark?”  Tony had the absurd urge to shout “present!” but managed to stifle it. 

Instead, he stood and made his way over to her, following her out of the waiting area and back to one of the small curtained areas that filled the emergency room.  She pulled back one of the blue-green curtains, revealing Happy sitting on a gurney, medical tape covering his torso and bruises darkening his face. 

“He’s being released, but will need to follow up with his regular physician tomorrow.  No alcohol, drugs other than what is prescribed here or strenuous activity,” the nurse quoted efficiently. 

“So, none of the fun stuff, then,” Tony said with a relieved smile.  While Happy had never been in any real danger, it was still good to see him upright and grinning.  The nurse gave him a rather nonplussed look and then handed him a bag of what he assumed were the rest of Happy’s things.

“He should have someone with him for the night, waking him every hour and asking him the questions on the list that will be included with his prescription,” the nurse continued as if Tony hadn’t spoken. 

“Ok, ok, yeah, I got that,” Tony responded, tucking the bag under his arm.  “And…and the other man?” Tony asked, not sure if he wanted an answer or not. 

“Are you family?” the nurse queried. 

“No…um, we were the ones that…kind of hit him,” Tony said, and earned a raised eyebrow from the nurse in response. 

“He just came out of nowhere!”  Happy stuttered, agitated.  “I swear…one minute that alleyway was clear and the next, boom!  I don’t know where he came from that fast, Boss, I swear.”

“Nothing you could do, Hap, don’t worry.  I’m sure he’ll be fine.  He was lucid afterwards.  Even recognized me,” Tony replied trying to defuse Happy before he really got going.  The last thing he wanted was for the chauffeur to worry about this right now.  “Let’s get you home, we’ll stop by Gianetti’s and get some of that—“ he stopped as the curtain was pushed aside again and the doctor came in.

“Mr. Stark?”  the doctor asked, and Tony nodded in response.

“He’s asking for you, if you don’t mind,” the doctor continued.

Tony almost asked who and then realized who the doctor must be talking about.  His heart absolutely did not stutter in response to hearing that the man was apparently well enough to ask…to ask for him.  He also definitely did not hurry after the doctor without even a glance back at Happy sitting half-naked on the gurney.  Nope. That would’ve been rude.

The doctor led him down the hall to a small room, the blinds closed, guarding against any prying eyes.  Tony followed the doctor inside, taking in the monitors, IV drip and wires trailing to the hospital bed, unhooked and useless now.

The man sat upright on the bed, and Tony wanted to say something insipid like he looked no worse for the wear, but his first reaction was honestly to just think, “beautiful,” before his brain went utterly off-line as he took in broad shoulders, a well-muscled chest tapering to a narrow waist and strong legs hanging off the side of the bed, a sheet covering his torso but not leaving a whole heck of a lot to the imagination. 

It was probably wrong to get an erection due to staring at the guy you put in the emergency room while still standing in said emergency room.  There was probably some kind of serious post-accident etiquette breach in there somewhere. 

“We seem to have something of a situation here,” the doctor intoned evenly.

Tony wasn’t inclined to stop staring at the man on the gurney long enough to give the doctor his attention, but he did finally manage to drag his eyes away from sweeping over the man’s body long enough to catch his eyes, and what he saw there stopped him cold.  Utter confusion, despair, loss, fear, panic, it seemed a whole kaleidoscope of emotions was playing across their blue depths.  Until he locked eyes with Tony, when something like hope or at the very least something less like pain found its way there. 

“Mr. Stark,” the man said in a deep, solid voice.

“Do you know this man, Mr. Stark?” the doctor queried.

“No…no, not really,” Tony said, and instantly regretted it, seeing the man’s shoulders sag and his whole face seem to wilt. 

“I—I thought…you seem familiar…but I…” the man started, before clamping his mouth together and shaking his head resignedly. 

“From all of our tests, he seems to be physically fine.  Actually, better than fine, if you can believe it," the doctor said, causing Tony to do a bit of a double-take because, jeez, the man had been knocked through a brick wall...how was that even possible?  The doctor didn't seem to share his amazement though and just kept on talking, "However, it appears he has suffered some kind of memory…well, loss, I guess you’d say.  And some general confusion.  He seems to remember certain things from perhaps a father or, more likely, grandfather’s life, just bits and pieces, but nothing from the present day.  Except you, that is.  He remembered you and seemed to think that he knew you.  I’d hoped…well, I’d hoped maybe you could shed some light on the situation,” the doctor finished, waving his hand aimlessly. 

And Tony, watching the man’s hopeful gaze shift over to him, had never wanted anything more than to be able to do just that. “I-I’m sorry.  He seemed to recognize me…after the accident…but, well, a lot of people recognize me,” Tony said, and had that ever sounded more pretentious? 

The doctor sighed. “Yes, yes, I’d thought that, of course.  But…well, I had to try.  He doesn’t seem to have any ID on him, though he has dog tags, like a veteran, but I checked and DoD doesn’t have any record of this particular serial number.  They’re probably some of those custom ones people have made.  We also checked NYPD.  No missing person reports match his description.  At least not yet, though he’s an adult, so any family or friends would probably check the hospitals before going to the police.  The nurse checked with all the local hospitals and no one has had any inquiries,” the doctor continued.  Tony couldn’t help but watch the man’s face as the doctor talked.  He was clearly taking all this in, and at least wasn’t panicking, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the set of his shoulders and line of his jaw. It had only been a couple of hours since the accident, but the man had said he missed a date…surely someone would be looking for him soon. 

“What’s the name on there?” Tony asked, reaching for the plastic bag with the dog tags.  He turned it over in his hands and pressed the plastic flat against the metal to make out the letters.

“Steven G. Rogers,” Tony read out loud.  “Can I call you Steve?”


	2. Chapter 2

The man, Steve, Tony supposed now, just shrugged in response. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Tony asked curiously. 

Steve looked down for a moment, and Tony fought the urge to place a hand on his shoulder, which was ridiculous, really, because Tony was about the last person who should be attempting to offer any kind of emotional comfort, he was well aware.

“Dark,” Steve said, and Tony watched a slight tremor run through him.  “Cold.” 

“That’s…that’s it?” Tony pressed.  “Dark and cold…well, that’s…not much to go on,” Tony continued fruitlessly.  What had he expected?  ‘ _The last thing I remember is a sign shaped like a giant donut’_   Yeah, not happening. 

“All this…I mean, I know it’s a hospital.  He’s a doctor…and it’s…familiar, I guess,” Steve continued.  “But…it’s wrong.  I don’t know how to explain it.  It’s…I recognize it, but…it’s just all wrong.” Tony could hear the frustration lacing his tone.  He could only imagine what it must be like not to remember who you were.  His identity…being Tony Stark…being Iron Man…was so much a part of him…the loss of it…well, he really couldn’t imagine.   Of course, it wasn’t like Steve really had to deal with that kind of identity issue.

“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Stark.  I had to ask, you understand, just to be sure,” the doctor said briskly, opening the door for Tony to exit.  Which, really, is what he should do.  He’d already spoken to the police officer who was investigating the crash, if by “spoken to,” you included giving her his lawyer’s card.  He’d let Pepper know what happened.  Presumably she was busy accomplishing…whatever it was that needed to be done about insurance, publicity and the like.  So, really, he had no reason to stay.

On the other hand, if a drumline of midget ninjas walked by, he still wouldn’t have moved. 

“Um…yeah, so what happens now?  To him, to Steve, I mean?” Tony inquired of the doctor, ignoring the open door.  The doctor looked back and forth between Steve and Tony, and Tony noticed Steve was looking up expectantly at that. 

“Steve, do you want to discuss this now?” the doctor asked.  “I’m sure there will be lots of time for questions later.  There really isn’t any need to make any decisions right away.”

“I’d like to know…I guess what my options are,” Steve said, his voice surprisingly steady given the situation.  “I—Mr. Stark, I’ve taken up enough of your time.  I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?” Tony sputtered incredulously.  “Did you seriously just apologize for inconveniencing me after my car ran you over?  Are you sure he doesn’t have a head injury?” Tony asked, turning to the doctor.

“Actually…” the doctor started, eyeing Steve and receiving a small nod, then closing the door again.  “Actually, he is in remarkably good condition, considering.  There were earlier signs of contusions and what we thought was hemorrhaging, but the equipment in the ambulance is not as sophisticated as what we have here.  Neuro checked him out and didn’t see any anomalies that would explain the memory loss on any scans, but that isn’t unheard of.  The brain still holds many mysteries, even with everything we know today.”

“But…he got smashed into a brick wall.  By. A. Car,” Tony said slowly, waving a hand at Steve.  “I mean, there has to be something…something physically wrong, right?”

“Not necessarily,” the doctor responded, looking a bit piqued at Tony’s questioning.  “I’ve worked the ER here for over ten years.  You’d be amazed at the things I’ve seen.  A toddler falls three stories and walks away with a chipped tooth.  A teenager who drove his car off an eighty foot cliff who walked away with no injuries.  All sorts of, well, miracles, I guess people call them.  The body is an amazing thing.”

Well, Tony could agree with him on that last part, he thought, looking over at Steve.

“Okay, okay, so what happens now?” Tony asked again.  “He can’t just walk out of here.  He doesn’t even know who he is.”

“Steve will stay here overnight for observation.  I’d like Neuro to follow up again with him in the morning.  We’ll refer him to brain injury specialists for further treatment.  I’m sure someone will be here looking for him soon,” the doctor replied.  “Your family is probably frantic by now,” he said, trying to sound comforting and not really managing, in Tony’s opinion. 

 “Oh…well, okay then.  I guess…I guess that’s okay.  I mean, obviously, you’re right.  Someone will be here soon.  For you.  You’ll…someone will be here soon,” Tony said, nodding firmly for emphasis and watching Steve watch him, which was oddly disconcerting. 

Steve just nodded in seeming agreement and went back to staring at his feet as they trailed across the linoleum. 

Tony stared probably longer than was exactly comfortable before finally turning and opening the door.  “Well, I….I’m sure my people will be in touch.  About the insurance and stuff.  So…you know…if you…if you need anything,” he stuttered as he gripped the doorknob.  The doctor was looking at him oddly.  And yeah, okay, the whole not wanting to leave the stranger’s room thing was probably a little disconcerting. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the man, Steve, Tony’s brain reminded him, replied quietly.  And that was it, Tony’s part in this was done, it was up to doctors and lawyers and investigators and insurance, and then he was walking over and taking out his wallet and pressing a wad of cash and his card into the man’s hand. 

“Look…look, just take this, okay.  If you need anything, my private number is on there.  You call, okay?  Just…you call.  If you need anything,” Tony finished and realized he’d been holding the man’s hand under his while he pressed the money and card into it and dropped it unceremoniously, taking a few steps back.  “Anything,” Tony said, stopping at the threshold of the door.  “I mean it.”

“I can’t take this,” Steve said, looking down at his hand and trying to give the money back to Tony.  “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Didn’t say I did,” Tony answered. “Sometimes you just do what you can do, even if it isn’t owed.”

Steve stared at him again, blue eyes seeming to take in more of Tony than he really wanted to give.

Tony started to leave the room and pull the door closed behind him. 

“You’re a good man, Mr. Stark,” he heard Steve say and turned to see him looking down at the card in his hand, wad of cash crumpled in the other fist.

“You don't know me,” Tony replied quietly as he shut the door.

Walking down the hospital corridor, Tony noticed several messages from Pepper on his phone. Apparently, she’d managed to arrange private nursing care for Happy, contact the insurance company, the lawyer, SI’s publicity department to make a statement and sent a car with a chauffeur who would be holding a freshly made espresso.  Pepper? Was awesome.  If she were a super-villain, she could probably take over the world in no time.

Tony slid into the back seat the Maserati and took the last sip of his espresso.  He was exhausted, sore and not a little bit hungry.  He just wanted to get back to the Tower, pour himself a real drink and fall into bed.  The car arrived at the Tower having managed to skirt most of the uptown traffic.  Tony thanked the driver, made a mental note to tell Pepper to give him a big tip as he hopped out of his own accord.  No reporters on his doorstep yet, he thought with a relieved sigh.  He was fairly sure the NY Post would be running some asinine headline about Iron Man running over a pedestrian tomorrow.

He made his way to the elevator and hit his private code to take him to the living quarters.  JARVIS greeted him as he stepped out.  “Welcome Home, Sir.  I trust you are well and uninjured after today’s excitement?” the AI asked.

“I’m good, JARVIS.  Going to need to schedule an hour on the table with ‘Becca though,” Tony said, rubbing his neck. 

“Call up Prosperity Dumpling and get some food sent over, would ya?” Tony asked as he started to strip out of his ruined suit.  He noticed dark, rust-red stains on the front of the jacket and thighs of his trousers where he’d cradled the injured man’s head.  Proof that something had been wrong with Steve at one point, anyway.  He shook his head and tossed the suit in the trash.  That one was definitely a goner. 

A moment later, he picked the suit up and put it in the pile to go to dry cleaning.  He couldn’t quite articulate why.

An hour later, Tony was sprawled in bed, sated from enough dumplings to start a factory and sipping on his favorite Scotch.  He was also, as it turned out, violating HIPAA privacy laws rather blatantly, he thought as he scanned the hospital’s medical file on Steve. 

The initial report from the EMTs included plenty of injuries you’d expect to see from a crash of that magnitude.  But later hospital records didn’t seem to show much damage.  More interesting, at least to Tony, was the doctor’s notes about Steve’s memory loss.  It seemed he had no recollection of who he was, where he lived or what he did, and expressed a lack of awareness of how basic things operated.  His only memories, which the doctor speculated might be things he remembered from books, movies or stories told by an older relative, involved flashes of fighting, war and, hmmm…that was odd and not a little concerning, Tony thought. 

A man with a red face.

The doctors and psychiatrist all agreed he was suffering from injury-related memory loss and general confusion.  Some of his so-called memories were, the experts thought, really just dreams or confused recollections that his mind had latched onto as something real because they were the clearest images it could conjure. 

Tony swiped the record closed and took another sip of his drink.  Steve wasn’t his problem, at any rate. 

He told himself that again the next morning as he perused Steve’s medical chart again, nothing that both Neuro and psych had apparently cleared him for discharge, though recommended follow-up visits.  Both specialists agreed that Steve was not incapacitated in the medical sense.  He was able to make his own decisions.  He was physically fine.  He was an adult.  Just lacked his memories.  No reason for the hospital to keep him any longer than was necessary.

He reminded himself again that Steve was not his problem when he saw that the hospital had discharged him and given him the name of a social worker and address of some kind of half-way house. Because no one had come looking for him yet. 

He reiterated it to himself when he hacked the NYPD database to pull up the missing persons reports (none matched Steve) and then went ahead and checked various law enforcement databases up and down the Eastern seaboard (no matches again).

He told himself that yet again when he hacked the hospital’s surveillance cameras and found one that angled to the outside of the emergency room where Steve was sitting on a bench wearing a hoodie at least a size too small for him and what looked like scrubs but fit him like capris. 

And he was pretty sure that he chanted it to himself as he slid into the Audi and headed back to the hospital.

He’d never been a very good listener.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you all so much for reading! I'm kind of amazed by the interest here, but yay! Glad you don't think this idea is totally stupid. I honestly wasn't sure. So, thank you for commenting and kudo-ing and generally being awesomely supportive. I do finish what I start, so no worries on that end. Hope I can make it worth the read.

Tony was a few blocks from the hospital when he spotted Steve shuffling down the side of the street in, dear God, were those Crocs?  Tony pulled the Audi to a halt in front of a fire hydrant and stepped out into Steve’s path. 

“Mr. Stark?” Steve asked, brow furrowed in such a way that made Tony pause a moment because, really, no one over the age of four should look that adorably confused.  “Are you feeling alright?  Or…is it the other man…your driver?  Is he okay?”

“Huh?  Oh, yeah, no, no, everyone’s fine,” Tony blurted out before thinking about it, because really, ‘I was headed back for a check-up and saw you walking down the street’ was probably as good an explanation as any that didn’t involve cyber-hacking.  Damn. 

“Um…okay then.  Well, that’s good,” Steve said with a polite smile.  “Is there something I can help you with?  I already talked to the police about the accident.”

Tony stared at him for a moment and shook his head.  “No, no, it’s…the accident thing, it’s all being handled.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m sure my people will be in touch…actually, uh, yeah, that’s…we don’t have a way to contact you.  So, that’s it.  That’s me.  I mean why I’m here.  Contacting you.”

Jesus Christ on a cracker, Stark, get it together. 

“Do you…did someone…I mean, did your people find you?” Tony finally managed. 

Steve ducked his head to the side before answering with a gruff “No” and leaving it at that.  Actually, Tony had pretty much known that from his snooping, but found something twist inside him when Steve said it like that.  Tony knew a bit about what it was like to be left somewhere with no one coming to get you. 

“Well…a hotel then?  You have the money I gave you, right?  If you need more, I could…wait…you do have the money I gave you, don’t you?” Tony asked, noticing how Steve’s face had shifted somewhat guiltily when it was mentioned. “Don’t tell me you’ve blown it all on chicks and booze already?”

“What?  No.  Um, no.  That was very generous of you.  I wouldn’t…no,” Steve stammered, clearly uncomfortable.  “There was…the man…back there…he had a sign that said he would work for food.  Seemed like he needed it more than I did, so…”

Tony tried not to put his face in his hands and settled for scrubbing his face with a hand to clear his expression.  “You…you gave that to a panhandler?”

“He was hungry.  I wasn’t.  Hospital gave me some food.  Kind of neat stuff, too.  It was green and jiggled.  Tasted weird, but kind of comforting though,” Steve said. 

“You ate Jell-o so you gave five hundred bucks to a bum,” Tony said, trying the words out loud to see if they sounded less insane than they did in his head.

Steve looked a bit abashed.  “Well, I gave some of it to the hospital to cover the bill.  Gotta pay your debts, you know?” Steve explained with such solemnity that Tony managed to turn his laugh into a cough, “But I had a bit left over, and, I wasn’t hungry.  He was.  Just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Tony threw his hands in the air in surrender.  How do you argue with that kind of sincerity anyway?  “Forget it, forget it, look, just…what are you going to do now?  I mean, you still don’t know who you are, right, still no memories?”

“Some…well, I don’t know if they are memories really.  Mostly just images. They don’t make much sense.  The doctor said to try to find familiar things, but without anyone…well, I’m not sure what familiar is right now,” Steve finished, and Tony couldn’t miss the look of loss that crossed his face that time.  How could no one be looking for this guy?  He was like some Calvin Klein ad come to life.  Not that only the pretty people had families and friends, but still…this wasn’t some street person that happened to stumble in front of Tony’s car.  He’d been running, Happy said.  Running to meet his date?  Maybe.  God, Tony hated not knowing, well, anything, but this was a mystery that made no sense and somehow, Tony couldn’t seem to just let it go. 

“Okay, so what are you going to do then?” Tony repeated.  Why it was so damn important to figure out where the man would be was not something Tony felt like looking too closely at right this moment. 

“They…the lady at the hospital…social worker?  I think she said, anyway, she gave me an address that has a room for me until…well, until I figure something else out.  Or…well, until,” Steve replied.  “I appreciate the concern, really Mr. Stark.  But there isn’t anything for you to feel guilty about.  I’m fine.  I’m sure this…memory thing…will fix itself in no time.  I just have to work on finding things that will trigger something, something familiar.  And there will be someone…I’m sure there is someone looking. I just have to find them,” Steve said, his voice stronger as he detailed his plan, such as it was.  Tony glanced at the address written in neat script on the scrap of paper in Steve’s hand and quickly tapped it into his phone.  Some kind of half-way house they used for patients leaving mental health treatment.  Um, yeah, no.  That was obviously not happening.  Because…well, because reasons. 

And Steve needed new shoes anyway.

“You’re coming with me,” Tony said decisively, and moved to open the Audi’s passenger door.  But Steve just stood there on the sidewalk, hands on his hips, very obviously not listening to Tony’s perfectly reasonable suggestion.  Not listening to Tony was just annoying in anyone and somehow more so with Steve, Tony decided, noting the hard set of Steve’s jaw that was no doubt about to inform him of the many reasons that getting into a car with the stranger that had nearly run him over the day before was not a good idea.

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Stark, but I can’t accept.  I’ll be fine, really.  You’ve done more than enough. It was an accident. You don’t owe me anything,” Steve said firmly and started to walk again, which left Tony in the ridiculous situation of taking a step and half to keep up looking like that yappy dog in the cartoon that was always bouncing around the bigger dog shouting ‘yeah, Spike, yeah.’ 

“Look, Steve,” Tony said, grabbing for the guy’s arm, which as it turned out did absolutely nothing to slow him down and just managed to drag Tony stumbling into Steve’s side. Which, really, that part was actually okay, Tony decided as Steve sent a quick hand to steady him. 

“Mr. Stark--” Steve started.

“Tony,” Tony cut him off.  “Mr. Stark sounds like my dad.  And you shouldn’t be calling me by my dad’s name.  It’s just…no,” Tony said, earning him an odd glance from Steve. 

“Okay, Tony, I really do appreciate your concern, but I don’t need your help.  I’ll be fine, really,” Steve responded in a way that made it sound like something he knew to be true when Tony wasn’t so sure.  “I’m sure you are a very busy man. The doctor said you were…you worked in metal?”

 _Worked in metal?  Oh, do not, do not, do not find that cute, Tony, do not_ , he berated himself silently.  Too late.  Damn, he thought, grinning.

“I’m Iron Man,” Tony said proudly.  And of course, the one time, okay perhaps there were maybe a few (hundred) others, that he wanted to impress someone with the whole Iron Man thing and the guy was clueless.  “I’m…well, I’m…I have this suit, see?  It’s not really iron, but that was catchier than Alloy Man, so we went with it, and it flies.  Well, I fly.  In the suit.  The Iron Man suit.  It’s kind of a big deal.”  Dear. God.  Just stop talking, Tony told himself harshly. 

“You fly?  In a metal suit?” Steve asked in amazement. And there, see? That was more like it.  “Wow…that’s…well, that’s sure something, Tony.   Do…do lots of people do that?”

What was it about this guy that made Tony want to face-plant into the nearest wall?  “No, no.  Just me.  Well, okay, and Rhodey.  He’s War Machine.  But I designed the suit.  And, well, there was this guy with something kind of similar but it couldn’t fly, just had arc-reactor powered whips, and then there were the drones…”  And yeah, so he really needed to work on his introduction of Iron Man probably being a tad more impressive by the blank look on Steve’s face.

“So…none of that sounds familiar?  Iron Man, saving the world, rah-rah, go world peace?” Tony couldn’t resist asking.  The man had seemed to remember him, after all.  Not that Tony would object if one of Steve’s only remaining memories was of Tony Stark and not Iron Man.  He was not going to dwell on the weird warm feeling that formed in his gut at that thought.  Probably last night’s dumplings.  Anyway, maybe the guy’d had a crush?  That could totally have happened. 

“No..not…no.  Is that…is that what you do?  Save the world? Like…like one of those superheroes in the comic books?” Steve asked, obviously curious (finally, geez, what did a guy have to do these days?), but struggling to understand what must sound like some strange, futuristic world to someone who couldn’t remember it. 

“I guess…Yeah, sure, why not?  Think of me like one of those guys,” Tony responded, realizing for the first time how difficult it was to explain this to someone who had no point of reference, no Youtube videos, no press conferences, no headlines to draw from.  Particularly when you wanted said someone to think of you as awesome and not…weird.  Though, barn door open, horse probably gone on that one.

But Steve, well, Steve was beaming a wide, bright smile, so Tony forgot why he cared. About anything, really.  Let’s just stand here all day and do this, Steve smiling like that, screw the meeting he’d rescheduled three times now.  Stock splits were boring anyway.  Far better use of his time to amaze Steve even more. 

“That’s…wow, that’s fantastic!  I didn’t know…well, maybe I did, I don’t remember…but that’s, well…that’s great. That you do that, I mean.  Amazing, Tony,” Steve said in rush. Amazing Tony, he repeated to himself.  Oh.  Oh dear.  Well, that just has to stop right now, doesn’t it?  Get a fucking grip, Stark, Tony told himself. 

Tony cleared his throat and tried again.  “So, yeah, that’s me.  Um, so, see, totally safe here.  Superhero.  No man behind the curtain to worry about, so…”

“Man…man behind the curtain?” Steve repeated, his face scrunching and eyes going wide.  “I—I think I understood that reference.  A…was there a green city?”

“Hey!  Yes, yes, Wizard of Oz!  It was a movie.  Old movie, but a classic.  Everyone’s seen it.  They show it on TV all the time.  See, you’re already doing better after just a few minutes of my presence.  This whole memory thing is going to be a piece of cake, you’ll see.  You just need to get out in the world a bit, find stuff you recognize,” Tony said, grabbing back onto Steve’s arm and pulling him towards the car, though getting nowhere with that, because it turned out budging the guy was trickier than it looked.

“Tony…” Steve said, drawing out his name in a slightly disapproving way.  “I can’t just…”

“Yes, you can.  I said so and it’s my life and I’m a superhero and you get my references.  Well, one of them. We’ll work on that. So, come on, in the car before they ticket me.  Again.  We’ll get you cleaned up, some clothes that actually fit, and see what we can do about finding your people,” Tony insisted.

“How?” Steve asked.  “I was going to check down at the station and see if maybe someone…”

“I have my ways,” Tony said, pulling Steve along in his wake, which was going swimmingly until Steve just stopped moving and Tony, still holding his arm, snapped back against the hard plane of Steve’s chest with a grunt.  Okay, we really have to stop doing this…or, no actually, this is totally fine, Tony corrected, turning to look at Steve’s narrowed gaze staring down at him, so close he could see the flecks of gold in his eyes.  He realized he hadn’t let go of Steve’s arm and probably should.  For some reason.  It really didn’t seem important. 

“What ways?” Steve asked in a way that made the question sound a lot like an order.  Damn.  Steve might have missed a few things, but he was entirely too quick on the uptake about some things. Suspicious, too.  Normally, Tony’d appreciate that kind of authority questioning, but not when it was about him, and especially not when Steve was right to be suspicious about the guy who magically appears after running him over. 

“In addition to being a superhero, I’m also kind of a genius.  Well, and a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but none of those really apply to this.  So, anyway, getting information really isn’t all that hard for someone like me---hey!  Where are you…dammit, come back here,” Tony sputtered, throwing up his hands in surrender as he watched Steve’s retreating back.

“Okay, okay, so I may have hacked into the hospital’s security cameras.  A tad,” Tony said, stopping because it was useless to keep chasing Steve at this point, but to his surprise, Steve had slowed.  He didn’t turn back to Tony though.  Just seemed to be waiting on Tony, though for what, Tony had no idea.

Tony sighed deeply.  “And maybe a bit on your medical records.  And about the half-way house thing.”  This was like confession, but without the fun Thornbirds scene.  

“So, you invaded my privacy and the hospital’s security, probably broke several laws, and then decided to come down here and…what?  What is it exactly you want from me?”  Steve questioned sharply.  “I’ve already told you that you weren’t responsible for the accident. That’s what it was.  An accident.  I’m not your responsibility.  I don’t remember my life just yet, but I’m pretty damn sure I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I know, I—well, I guess I just wanted to.  You know.  Help, I suppose.  I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…the, uh, privacy thing…I’m not…good with…I was trying to help, but…I…well…” Tony blustered in a rather unsuccessful attempt to make that sound like less of an intrusion than it was.

“You have an odd interpretation of how to help, you know that, right?” Steve asked calmly. Steve was staring at him now, assessing in a way that made Tony uncomfortable, and he hated that.  For some reason, he thought of his father home for a short visit, looking over Tony’s fourth grade science project as Tony waited on the precipice for some kind of benediction that probably wasn’t going to come.  Tony shook his head.  Where had that come from?

“So, you are good at getting information, I take it,” Steve said calmly, startling Tony from his reverie. 

“I—yes,” Tony said, because he was, though couldn’t quite see Steve’s train of thought here, which was all kinds of annoying. 

“Then let’s go find some information, Mr. Stark,” Steve said, brushing past him to walk back to the car.  Tony found himself looking to and fro, watching Steve fold himself into the smaller car.  Okay, so…that happened. 

“Information.  Okay, yeah, I can do that,” Tony said, walking around to the driver’s side.  “But…shoes first,” Tony insisted, shaking his head. “Those can’t come into my house.  Just no.”

“Thank God.  I thought maybe I’d just repressed everything in the hope of blocking these things from my mind,” Steve said evenly.

Tony burst out laughing, earning a wan, lopsided smile from Steve, and oh.  Damn.

He hadn’t thought his heart could still do that. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that by Winter Solider, Cap has a retrospective at the Smithsonian, but for purposes of this story, assume everything about Project Rebirth and Steve is classified. *waves magic author hands of plot contrivance* Also, I have to fangirl a moment because elise_509 kudo'd me and if you haven't read her Stony story, In the Stillness of Remembering, what are you doing? You should stop everything and go read that. It is my favorite ever, so I'm like having some kind of ridiculous hand-waving moment here. It is in my bookmarks. Seriously, go read it.

Tony made a phone call as he drove, so when they arrived at the Tower, Marcel was waiting with several shoeboxes.  Steve gamely kicked the Crocs off and grabbed a box with black slip-ons inside and slid them on with no small amount of relief.  Knows his European shoe size, Tony added to the list of strange memories and non-memories Steve seemed to possess.  Maybe he’d spent some time abroad?  He had to smile at the sight of Steve in blue scrub pants that hit him mid-calf, a hoodie and eight hundred dollar Prada loafers.  “Burn these,” he said, handing the offending Crocs to Marcel who held them out from his body in disdain. 

“The rest has been delivered upstairs, Mr. Stark.  As always, it was a pleasure doing business with you,” Marcel said with a deferential nod.  “And may I say, what a _very_ nice selection you’ve made,” he teased, a wide grin spreading across his face.  Cheeky bastard.  Tony handed him another hundred and shooed him off.

Tony entered his code and unlocked one of the lobby doors, holding it open for Steve to enter.  Steve was gazing around the empty lobby, taking it all in.  He noticed Steve had stopped to admire one of the paintings that adorned the lobby wall, staring at it intently. 

“You like?” Tony asked, walking up behind him. 

“I do,” Steve said emphatically. 

“Art, huh?”  Tony said curiously.  Steve just shrugged. 

“I like it.  It doesn’t seem familiar or anything.  Just…it’s interesting,” Steve replied, eyes still roving over the painting.  Tony didn’t know what there really was to look at there.  Pepper’s taste in art was still beyond him.  This one looked like a three year old went to town with a couple cans of paint.  Still, he supposed he could have it brought up to the penthouse. 

“Is this…is your apartment here?” Steve asked, finally turning from the Pollack to look around the Tower lobby some more. 

“Hmmm?  Well, sort of…” Tony began.  “I actually own the building.  Stark Tower, see?” he said, indicating the sign still wrapped in plastic by the lobby desk.  “It’s still under construction, but the top floors house the R&D areas and my workshop.  Those are mostly done.  The penthouse is mine, but the guest floors are mostly done. Once it’s finished, most of the administrative side of SI, that’s Stark Industries, will relocate here.” 

“The whole thing?  Wow. That’s...you must have worked very hard to accomplish all this,” Steve said, sweeping his hand around. 

Tony cleared his throat and found himself looking down a bit, annoyed with himself for how hard it was to force the words out, “My dad started the company, actually.  We made weapons for decades.  Now…now we’re in all sorts of areas, from smartphones to clean energy.” 

“Smart…phones?” Steve queried.

And of course, right, geez. This would be far more impressive if the guy he was trying to impress actually had a clue what he was talking about.  Tony sighed and shoveled out his StarkPhone, keying it on for Steve to see, but he just stared blankly at the device in his hand. 

“It’s a phone?” Steve asked, turning it over in his palm. 

“Um…yeah,” Tony replied.  And okay, so now the guy acted like he couldn’t remember what a smartphone was.  Curiouser and curiouser.  “It…here,” Tony said, grabbing it back and clicking on a few buttons. “You can connect to the internet using this one, this one dials, here’s your contacts…”

“The Inter Net?”  Steve repeated, clicking on the Google button. 

“Really?  No memory of the internet.  Okay.  Well, we’ll just start from the beginning then. First, it wasn’t invented by Al Gore. Second, it is a way to find out basically all the information available to the human race.  Third, it is mainly used to view home movies of cats and porn,” Tony lectured, placing a hand on Steve’s back and guiding him toward Tony’s private elevator.

“Cat movies and…blue films?” Steve asked, blushing a bit as he said it and God, could he be more precious? 

“Mostly, but there is other stuff out there.  Just click on this and when this pops up,” Tony continued, pointing out the search bar that appeared, “you type in what you want to know about.”

“Is this…how you found that stuff about me?” Steve questioned as they stepped into the elevator. 

“Well…sort of,” Tony replied, unsure exactly how to explain about JARVIS and cyber-hacking to someone who couldn’t recall the internet. 

“I think I’ve forgotten a lot more than I realized,” Steve said quietly.

“Hey, hey, none of that.  You’ll get it back.  Look, this…this stuff, it isn’t important.  Let’s figure out who you are first, and then we can worry about keeping you away from 4chan,” Tony said, resisting the urge to pat Steve on the back.  In solidarity.  Of course.  Go Team Memory, and all that.

Steve just shook his head, but there was a smile playing about his lips, so Tony took it for a small victory.  The elevators pinged open and Tony and Steve spilled out into the large living area.  “So, uh, this is it.  Well, part of it, anyway.  The guest rooms are down that hall,” Tony said, pointing.  “My space is upstairs, except for the workroom, which is a couple floors below. There’s a gym, pool, the works.  Here, this way and you can pick out which room  you want,” Tony said, heading down the hallway. 

“Are you…sure about this, Tony?”  Steve said, shifting back and forth a bit on his feet.  “You really don’t have to do this.  I know you feel guilty, which you shouldn’t, but this is…well, opening your home to a stranger is very kind, but…”

Tony waved his hands and walked back a few paces to grab Steve’s sleeve.  “It’s fine, it’s fine.  I’ve got tons of sprace and right now, it’s mostly just me and the construction crews here.  You can help me test things out before the Tower goes online. Work out the bugs and stuff.  Really, you’ll be doing me a favor.” 

Steve obviously saw through that, but was either too polite or too desperate to challenge it.  He let Tony lead him down the hall to a series of guest rooms, quickly settling on one filled with light and large windows that offered a view of the Brooklyn Bridge.  “Thank you, Tony,” Steve said softly as he sat down on the bed, bouncing a little on the mattress.  “This…this is really great.”  And the smile was back, so Tony thought that was a good time to run for the exit as any because Steve smiling and lounging on the bed like that was not good for his blood pressure, he was certain. 

“Hold on a minute,” Tony called as he walked quickly down the hall and grabbed the shopping bags Marcel had sent up.  “These are for you.  Just a few things.  But you can’t walk around in those clothes, so…here,” Tony said as he dropped the bags into what was at least temporarily, he supposed, Steve’s room.

“You really didn’t have to do that.  I could’ve gotten something myself. But, again, thank you.  I’ll pay you back.  And something for rent, too.  I’m sure it won’t be long and I’ll be out of your hair.  I’m sure someone is looking for me,” Steve said with a certainty that didn’t quite ring true as he started to unpack the bags. 

“I’m sure they are, too,” Tony said, finding the words sticking in his throat a bit.  “But,” he continued, clapping his hands together, “for now, make yourself at home.  There’s a kitchen area off the living room.  Food in the fridge.  Help yourself to whatever you want.  Oh, and if a disembodied voice talks to you from the ceiling, that’s just my artificial intelligence.  His name’s JARVIS.  If you need anything, just ask him and he’ll help.”

“Ask your…ceiling voice?”  Steve stumbled around the concept, brow furrowed in what Tony was coming to think of as Steve’s confused face.

“He’s kind of like the phone I showed you earlier.  But smarter.  And snarkier.  He can help with most anything if you can’t find me for some reason,” Tony explained. 

“Okay…” Steve said, drawing out the word uncertainly.  Then he just shook his head and smiled again.  “Guess I have a lot of catching up to do.  This world…it’s so strange.  So much seems familiar and then…ceiling voices,” he said with a slight laugh. 

“To be fair, it isn’t like everyone in the world has their own AI.  Pretty much just me, so there’s that.  No reason for you to remember something like that,” Tony offered, realizing again how disconcerting this must be for Steve, who was handling everything with admirable aplomb, but still had to have his head spinning.  “So…so, anyway, don’t rush it.  Just chill for a bit and maybe we’ll order pizza or something later.  You like pizza?”

“I…yes.  Yes, I like pizza,” Steve said, seeming happy to have the certainty about even something so small. 

“Great!  I’ll get JARVIS to order us some. We can have movie night or something. You remembered Wizard of Oz, so maybe something else will trigger a memory.  In the meantime, I’ll see what I can dig up on you. There’s got to be something.  This day and age, everyone has a digital signature.  There’s probably a Facebook page devoted to finding you by now.  Seriously, we’ll have what I imagine is a very tall, well-groomed family ugly crying up here in no time,” Tony promised, closing Steve’s door behind him as he headed to the stairs that led to his workshop. 

Of course, nothing was ever simple, was it?  Tony thought a couple of hours later as he hit yet another dead end.

“JARVIS, take Cleveland-Steve off our list, please,” Tony instructed.   How was this possible?  Guy like that…wasn’t exactly the kind buying supplies for a compound in Minnesota or something.  Not like he was living off the grid.  But there was nothing.  No trace of him in the New York, New Jersey, DC, or Pennsylvania DMVs.  He’d thought…he’d thought there had been something New York about how Steve spoke from time to time.  He couldn’t quite place the accent, but it sounded vaguely familiar to him, so he’d initially concentrated his searches there.

No military records, as the doctor had said, but Tony had wanted to check for himself.  No police records.  No Facebook or Twitter pages that corresponded to anything to do with his Steve.  No court records.  Nothing in the property appraiser’s database.  No bank records.  No credit history.  Nothing in the New York Vital Statistics office that panned out.  Oh, there were Steve Rogers.  Steven Rogers. Stephen Rogers.  Roger Stevens.  On and on.  Couldn’t have been Kal’El Bretzinksi or something.  But, it was weird.  No one these days flew so under the radar.  It just wasn’t possible.  Yet, nothing corresponded to his Steve.  And yes, he was mentally calling him that, so what?  It was just easier to distinguish him that way.  Not at all because it sounded nice. 

This was obviously going to take longer than Tony had anticipated.  He hated the idea of going back to Steve empty handed though.  Steve was trusting him to find something, had gotten into the car with him, the guy who’d hit him a day earlier, on the temptation that Tony may be able to help him where the doctors couldn’t.  If he failed in that…well, Steve would leave, and Tony found he definitely did not want that to happen.  So.  Information. Tony could do that. 

Anything.  Anything at all. 

An hour later, he had JARVIS expanding the search to most of the Eastern half of the country when his phone pinged with a message from Pepper.  Apparently, she was stopping by the Tower with some paperwork for him to sign.  Which was great.  He could introduce her to Steve.  No.  Wait. That wasn’t great.  That was not great at all, he thought, hurriedly hopping off his stool and striding up the stairs from the workshop to head her off.  Because Pepper wouldn’t stop by the Tower with paperwork for him to sign. She’d email it to him for him to sign electronically.  Which meant she knew about Steve.

“Pep, Pepper, Peppermint, you look fantastic, are those new shoes?” Tony tried as she stepped out of the elevator. 

“You brought him home with you?  The man you and Happy the Wandering Chauffeur almost ran over?”  Pepper vented.  “I’ve been busy keeping this out of the press and you….you decide to suddenly find your altruistic side?  What’s going on Tony?  This isn’t like you.”

“He needed help, Pep.  I…well, I couldn’t just leave him there.  It just…seemed like the thing to do,” he gave her what he hoped was an earnest expression. 

“Tony…” she sighed his name in exasperation.  “That’s…very sweet of you, but do you see how complicated this could get?  What about the insurance? What if he sues you?  What if…” she stopped, swiveling her head as Steve came into the living room, dressed in the new clothes Marcel had brought over.  Tony couldn’t help but stare.  He may have done that for a little long, as Steve was looking back and forth between Tony and Pepper rather oddly.

“Sorry…sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.  I was just looking for the kitchen.  If you’ll point me…” Steve said. 

Pepper’s eyes narrowed as they flicked back to Tony, her lips pursing.  “Yes.  Yes, how very _altruistic_ of you, Tony.  What a _kind_ gesture.  Can I talk to you for a minute?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just jerked Tony by the arm and led him back down to the workshop.

“Kitchen’s that way,” Tony pointed as he was unceremoniously dragged off.  “There’s food in the—ow!” Tony faltered as Pepper pulled him down the stairs.  “Hey, watch the clothes!”

“It’s a t-shirt, Tony, for Pete’s sake, I don’t care what band is on it,” Pepper groused.  “Really?  Really?  How could you?”

“What?  I told you I was trying to help,” Tony stammered.

“Help?  Oh yes, help.  Help the ridiculously attractive, brain-addled probable underwear model that you nearly killed yesterday?  That who you were trying to help?” Pepper demanded, voice raising with every syllable. 

“I resent the insinuation,” Tony responded stoically. 

“Tony.  You cannot sleep with him.  Cannot. Cannot.  Cannot,” Pepper ordered. 

“Who said anything about…hey, I’m actually trying to help the man,” Tony replied, outrage slipping in because, okay, sure, it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that Steve was gorgeous or anything, but come on.  He was not trying to sleep with him.  He was helping.  With the information.  And the clothes.  And some food. And the place to stay.  But not trying to sleep with the man.  That would be…wrong. 

For some reason that he was sure Pepper was about to explain.

“Tony…he doesn’t even know who he is.  What if he has a…a partner?  Kids?  Someone he loves?  You…I know you.  And I know you mean well here, but Tony…I’m not blind. I’ve known you for ages.  This…this…level of interest…it isn’t exactly your usual MO.  I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Pepper said softly now, which was worse in so many ways than her shouting.

“Who’s getting hurt?  I’m just going to help the guy find his people and then I’m done.  That’s it, Pep.  Nothing for you to worry about.  He isn’t going to sue. At least, I don’t think he’s the type.  He isn’t going to run to the press.  He’s just…he needs someone right now.  I can help.  You’re the one that is always saying I should get more involved with actual people instead of the ‘bots.  I’m…I…I have to help him.  I can’t explain exactly why.  But…this is something I have to do,” Tony finished quietly.

Pepper was silent for a long minute, studying him closely.  “Okay, Tony.  Okay.  Just…be careful, will you?  Find out who he is and then…that’s it, right?”

“Absolutely, Pep.  That’s all I’m trying to do,” Tony agreed.

“Fine,” Pepper said evenly.  “I’ve got the press release to review, so I’ll go,” she said as she started up the stairs, heels clicking briskly on the steps.  She stopped halfway up and turned back to Tony.  “Just…don’t get in too deep, Tony.”

“Not gonna happen, Pepper,” Tony said, looking up at her retreating figure.

He didn’t add that the fact that each time JARVIS came back with no leads, his stomach unclenched a bit probably meant it was too late.


	5. Chapter 5

After Pepper left, Tony spent all of ten minutes attempting to work on the latest armor before admitting defeat and heading up to the kitchen to find Steve.  Sure enough, there was Steve eating what looked like half of the stuff in the refrigerator. 

Steve looked up when he entered, smiling a bit as he chewed.  “You want anything?” Steve asked, waving a hand at the buffet he’d spread out on the table.  “I’m not sure what some of this stuff is, but it’s all good.”  And was he eating sushi and macaroni and cheese?  Good grief.  Tony really needed to take him out somewhere and get some real food.  In the way that two incredibly attractive people had food together at a restaurant together before definitely not having sex. 

“I’m…I’m just going to grab some coffee,” Tony replied, making his way to the coffee machine and hitting a few buttons. 

“Is that what that does?” Steve asked.  “I was afraid I might accidentally launch something.”

Tony grinned, waiting as the coffee brewed.  “Well-brewed coffee on demand is one of the finer things in life that you definitely need to remember.”

“Coffee, I remember just fine.  That thing…” Steve said, frowning at the machine as if it had done something that earned it a spot in the corner. 

“Well, this isn’t exactly standard kitchen appliance fare,” Tony explained.  The machine had been hand-crafted in Italy, and Tony had made a couple of improvements of his own.  “I’ll give you a tutorial tomorrow.  You’ll have your barista badge in no time.”

“I don’t think I’d like being a bartender,” Steve responded quickly, continuing to eat. 

“Huh?  No…barista, like for a coffee shop.  Not at…hey…Parli Italiano?” Tony asked, years of ignoring his mom’s chatter coming back to bite him.

“Si, parlo Italiano,” Steve responded immediately.  Then looked rather surprised with himself.  “Hey, I speak Italian!”

“Looks like,” Tony said, grinning.  “Wonder what other skills you have,” Tony teased lightly.

“Don’t get your hopes up.  That was probably the most impressive thing I can do,” Steve laughed. 

“Oh…I seriously doubt that,” Tony said, voice low and slightly breathless.  This was so not going to end well.  Pepper was probably going to roast him alive. 

“Did you have any luck on your…Inter Net thing?” Steve asked, brows raising hopefully.  And damn.  Not like he hadn’t known that was going to come up.  Tony refused to admit defeat, of course.  But he found himself oddly unable to form the words that would no doubt disappoint Steve.

“Working on it, but it takes time.  We really don’t even know if we have your name correct, you know?  I mean, we’re assuming you’re a ‘Steven Rogers,’ but not only is that a fairly common name, but it could be that those are someone else’s dogtags. Maybe a father or brother or…” _boyfriend_ “someone else, so I’m working on an algorithm to broaden my search,” Tony explained. 

“Father…brother…that sounds nice, Tony,” Steve said a bit wistfully, fingering the dogtags that had made their way back around his neck.  Tony was struck again by how terrifyingly lonely it must be to not know who you were.  Tony’s own identity was such a part of his life…he couldn’t imagine losing that.  “I’ve kind of gotten used to being called Steve though,” he continued with a half-smile.  “Would be weird to find out I’m really a…James…or something.”  Tony noticed him frown slightly at that before shaking his head a bit and going back to what amounted to the third of a grocery store that amounted to his lunch. 

Tony sat down beside Steve and sipped his coffee.  “While we wait for JARVIS to run the search program, we can maybe go see some of the city. See if it triggers anything.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve said.  “When we drove here…it definitely felt familiar, but…I don’t know.  Off somehow.  I can’t put it in words exactly.  But I knew where I was in the city.  I think…I think I’m definitely from here.  Or lived here before, anyway,” Steve said, scrunching his face in obvious frustration.  “Do you…should I maybe go to the police again?  See if anyone is looking for me?”

“The hospital notified the NYPD of the situation.  If anyone come in to file  a missing persons report that matches your description, it should cross-reference and JARVIS will pick it up,” Tony replied, studiously not telling Steve that he was monitoring all missing persons reports through the country at this point.  “You’re an adult though, so your people may not realize you’re ‘missing’ as such until a few days go by without hearing from you.  I mean, that wouldn’t be unusual.  Maybe you don’t show up for a job and they call or something.  Or you don’t make your usual Sunday call to your mom.  I mean, they’ll realize eventually something is up, I’m sure.  Just be patient.”

“I’m trying,” Steve sighed.  “But, I think it will feel better to actively be doing something to find them, instead of just waiting around.”

Tony nodded in understanding.  “Field trip, it is then.”

An hour later, Tony was driving the Maserati around the city, pointing out various landmarks to Steve as he sat in the passenger’s seat staring intently out the window.  “Anything ringing a bell?” Tony queried as they drove past the New York Library, lions standing sentry at the doors.

“It…yes…maybe, I don’t know,” Steve answered in obvious frustration.  “It feels familiar.  I know this place, I would swear to it.  But…it’s like it is all out of context.  I can’t…I can’t find a memory to attach to it.  Just…I know it,” Steve stammered, hands gripping the dash tightly. 

“Hey, hey, don’t freak out or anything.  It’s just been a day.  You’ll get there.  Look…maybe this was too much, too soon.  We should probably let you rest and see what the doctors say tomorrow.  You have a follow-up, right?”  Tony asked, turning the car to head back to the Tower.  He wasn’t sure if this had been a mistake or not, but he could feel the tension radiating off Steve. 

“Yeah…yeah.  I’d just…I’d hoped…well, I guess you’re right.  This was probably too soon,” Steve choked out, and Tony could tell he was on the verge of losing it.  How disappointing to hope that you’d see something, remember something and then find it all just that much more confusing?  Tony should never have suggested this.  This was a terrible idea.  This was…this was an excuse to spend time with Steve, is what this was, without giving a whole lot of thought to what was best for Steve’s recovery, to be honest.  Damn.  He really was a selfish bastard when it came down to it. 

“Don’t…don’t beat yourself up here, Steve.  This was just a first try.  This was probably a terrible idea, anyway. We should’ve waited, given you time, not pushed things…” Tony said by way of apology. 

“I don’t think I’m the type to wait and not push things,” Steve intoned evenly, then heaved a heavy sigh.  “But, you’re probably right.  This was too soon.  I guess…let’s just head back.  Maybe things will be clearer tomorrow.”

Tony nodded and maneuvered the car through traffic, heading for the Tower’s garage.  They finished the rest of the drive in silence, and Steve climbed out of the car without a backwards glance once Tony parked.  “Hey…Steve…don’t get discouraged, okay.  This was just the first day.  I…we…we’ll figure this out, I promise.  Look, I built a flying suit in a cave in Afghanistan.  I can find out who you are.  I’m sure once you’re around people you know, your memory will come back in no time.”

Steve nodded silently, looking down at his shoes as he and Tony waited for the elevator.  “Thanks, Tony.  I know you’re right.  I do.  It’s just…hard.  But, you’ve been great.  Really,” Steve said, a soft, warm smile forming again as they stepped into the elevator.  “Most people probably woulda’ just left, but you kept on.  I…well, that’s really swell of you.  But, really, you’ve done so much.  You don’t have to keep…to keep taking care of me.  I really appreciate it, but…I’m not your responsibility, Tony.  You don’t owe me anything, and if you did, you’ve paid it back in spades,” Steve said earnestly, blue eyes staring intently at Tony as the elevator continued its climb.

“I’m not doing this because I owe you, Rogers.  I want to help because…It’s…I…well, you're stuck with me following you around while we figure this out, whether you like it or not.  I guess we're in this together now,” Tony stammered, faltering a bit under Steve’s steady gaze. 

Steve’s expression went oddly blank for a moment.  “’Til the end of the line…” he said, voice strangely heavy.

“Um…yeah, ‘til the end of the line. Sure,” Tony responded uncertainly, reaching a hand out to clasp Steve’s shoulder and finding the man trembling slightly under his touch.

The elevator doors opened and Steve stumbled out, grabbing his head as he collapsed to the floor. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Steve!” Tony shouted in a panic, rushing out of the elevator to grab at Steve’s shoulders where his knees had buckled and he’d slump to the floor in a heap. “JARVIS, call an ambulance!”

“No…Tony…no, I’m okay. Just.  Just give me a minute,” Steve slurred out, voice uneven, like every word was nails scraping on a chalkboard.  He was still holding his head bowed to his chest, but taking slow, steady breaths, Tony calmed enough to notice. 

“You just collapsed. We’re going to a hospital,” Tony replied stridently, running his hands over Steve’s back in a motion he wasn’t sure was meant to soothe him or Steve or both.  Steve was solid and warm beneath him, but he could feel the tension lacing Steve’s muscles.  “Are you…does it hurt?” Tony asked in a voice he didn’t quite recognize. 

“I’m fine. It…it isn’t…it doesn’t hurt, exactly.  Just…got overwhelmed for a second there.  Too much at once, I guess,” Steve explained, his voice returning to its usual deep timbre. 

“Okaaay…JARVIS, hold off on the 911 for now. But you still need to see a doctor.  I’m pretty sure falling to the floor is the kind of symptom that needs to be reported, though, admittedly, when I end up doing it, it’s usually because I’m drunk.”

“I’m fine, Tony,” Steve repeated with more certainty this time. “Really.  And I have my follow-up with the…the head doctor…tomorrow morning.  I just…that was a lot to take for a minute there.  But, really, I’m good.  No hospital,” Steve said, looking up at the ceiling now, as if hoping JARVIS would agree.

“Fine. But no more excitement for the night.  You’re going to eat and rest.  Period,” Tony said. And just when did he turn into a mother hen?  Maybe he should offer to tuck him in.  There, see, that was more like it.  Double entendres were Tony’s comfort zone.  This whole concern for Steve’s well-being thing was just plain weird.  “You said…you said it was too much at once.  Too much what, exactly?” Tony asked.  “Memories?  Were you…did you remember…?” 

“I-no. No, I don’t remember who I am…but there was something there.  I could see it.  Just a flash, but it was…real.  Very real.  It was like I was there instead of in the elevator.  I can’t explain it, but…I just wasn’t expecting that…” Steve replied, shaking his head to clear it, finally managing to look up at Tony.  Tony could see so much written there on Steve’s face, confusion, embarrassment and a hint of fear, the unknown suddenly a lot closer to the surface than it had been a moment earlier.  But most of all he saw something that would’ve broken his heart if it wasn’t already too late for that:  hope.  Bright, shining, hope, and in that moment Tony knew he was going to do anything, anything at all, to help Steve find his memories.  If just one flash of it could put this on the man’s face, then imagine what a whole lifetime could do.  What had been a project, perhaps one he enjoyed and needed after the whole palladium thing, suddenly became a mission.  He would do this.  He would do this for Steve.  And then?  Well, best not to think too much down that road.  The one that led to Steve walking back to whatever life he was missing from and away from Tony. 

“Tell me what you saw,” Tony instructed, sitting down beside Steve. He’d stopped running his hand over Steve’s back once the crisis passed, but he kept it across Steve’s shoulders in what was totally not a hug. 

Steve paused for a moment, and Tony could practically feel him pulling himself together and focusing. “Snow…I think.  Lots of snow.  Like a mountain, maybe?  I don’t know.  But…it felt high.  Like I was looking down.  And…loud.  Wind, I think.  A howling sound, but not…not like an animal or anything.  There was a steady kind of clacking sound…maybe…maybe like a train?”  Steve was nodding now, voice growing more sure as he spoke, the overwhelming sensory input fading to something he could put into words.  “And…something…I was reaching…” he said in frustration as whatever the memory was seemed to become more jumbled. 

“Okay. That tells me what you saw and heard.  Tell me what you felt.  Close your eyes, think about what you remember and tell me what feelings were associated with it…Was it fun?  Were you maybe grabbing for a…a pair of skis?” Tony attempted.  Mountain, snow, train…the train could perhaps be a ski-lift of some kind, though that didn’t quite fit with what Steve was describing. There were certainly trains that went through the mountains…

“I was…it...” Steve started, trying to find the right words.  “To be honest…it was terrifying.” 

Terrifying? “That…okay, well, that could just be how the memory affected you now.  I mean, that’s the first actual memory you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours, so it could just be that your mind was freaking out a bit there,” Tony suggested reasonably. 

“No. No…I know that makes sense.  But, no.  The memory…it’s something bad, Tony.  I don’t know what.  I don’t know why.  But it…something happened.  Something horrible.  I could feel it.  As much as I want my memories back…I wanted that one to end.  Whatever it is, I don’t think I’m going to like remembering it,” Steve finished and Tony felt a slight tremor shake through the man.  Whatever that memory was, it had clearly upset Steve quite a bit.  Some tragedy on a mountain train?  Tony racked his brain trying to remember anything like that happening in the last twenty years or so and came up empty. 

“Well…well, that’s...Look, I know that wasn’t what you hoped for, but it actually gives me some information to go on that I can input into the search,” Tony said.

“Really? You think it will help?” Steve asked hopefully, his face scrunching a bit as he tried to grasp how.  He turned his head half-way towards Tony, and Tony felt his breath catch, realizing for the first time just how close they were sitting, Tony’s arm thrown casually across Steve’s shoulders, Steve hunched over and leaning ever-so-slightly in Tony’s direction. 

“Um…yeah, yeah, definitely. Any information helps.  No idea what it could be, exactly, but it means there are some details that we can match up to you, so yeah.  It’ll help,” Tony assured him.  “Tell you what, I’ll order dinner and we’ll watch some TV, see if anything rings a bell.  Maybe there will even be something on the news about you.  They do that sometimes, help get the word out.  I should make a call,” Tony said, galvanizing himself to finally get off the floor next to Steve.  “Anything in particular you’re in the mood for, food-wise?” Tony asked.

Steve was staring up at him from the floor, eyes wide and impossibly blue. “Fondue?” Steve replied, the word coming out like he was trying it for the first time.  Steve frowned a bit after he’d said it, looking slightly askance at Tony.  “Is that…that’s a food, right?” Steve asked, actually blushing a bit, and wasn’t that just the most adorable thing ever?  Yes, yes it was.  If Steve wanted fondue, then fondue it would be.

“Fondue? Yeah, it’s food. Sure, sure.  We can fondue,” Tony said.  “JARVIS, make it happen, my man.”  Tony grinned down at Steve.  “Fondue in front of the TV.  Sounds awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. Fondue. I crack myself up, I really do. Admittedly, that's a fairly low bar.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony found himself alternately fidgeting uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair of the waiting room or pacing back and forth between the rows of seats like one of those zoo lions, walking the same line back and forth. He was surprised there wasn’t an indentation forming in the tile beneath his feet.  Of course, he could have just let Steve come to the doctor’s appointment on his own.  Except in how he apparently was completely incapable of letting that happen and was now pacing the waiting room like an expectant father, all worry and hope and despair at not  being able to freaking do anything, and…wait, really, where did that thought even come from? 

Tony sighed heavily and plopped down in the chair again, drawing a withering glance from the mom across the aisle. The little midget with her didn’t look up from his coloring pages to even notice that Iron Man was sitting across from him.  Maybe if he’d worn the suit, he could’ve gotten a decent cup of coffee in this place.  He tapped out a staccato rhythm against the reactor as he waited, mentally tallying the things he knew about Steve that were, based on the twelve different search algorithms he’d run in the past as many hours, of completely no use.  Steve spoke some Italian. Steve remembered snow and mountains, possibly a train, something that he felt ended badly.  An accident?  Steve had initially said the last things he remembered were the dark and the cold, so that kind of made sense.  But he couldn’t find any kind of record of a snowbound train accident in recent memory. 

Then there was the man with the red face. That had been in the doctor’s notes in Steve’s file that Tony had hacked.  Someone red-faced with anger?  Maybe there had been a fight, maybe that was what sent Steve running down the alleyway?  A sunburn was the only other possibility Tony had been able to come up with.  He needed to ask Steve about it.  The doctor’s notes had also indicated that Steve had some memories of being in some kind of war, but with no Department of Defense record, it was most likely, according to the specialist’s notes, that Steve was confusing fantasy and reality.  False recollections, the doctor had noted.  Tony had looked that up and apparently, it was pretty common for people with amnesia to have completely made up memories that seemed entirely genuine to them.  It even had a name:  confabulation.  Which was…not as fun as it sounded, Tony thought.  Confusing enough to lose your identity and a big chunk of memories without having to try to figure out what was a real memory and what was a flase one.  On the other hand, that could certainly explain a lot.  Though, maybe, given the dogtags, Steve had some kind of interest in military history?  Tony made a mental note to check out military history majors at New York colleges. 

On the other hand, maybe the guy’d just been playing Call of Duty and on a run to the store for snacks. Who the fuck knew? Steve’s past was a frustrating puzzle, a Rubik’s cube that got one row perfect only to find another one a complete jumble.  No one was _that_ off the grid.  And yet…here he was, another day later and nothing to show for it.  He’d imagined presenting Steve with his identity as a sort of grand gesture.  Which only worked if he actually, you know, accomplished anything.  And that…that was looking less and less likely by the hour as he had JARVIS expand his search to yet another database, yet another state. 

The whole thing made no sense. Steve was obviously smart, though his memory loss made him seem oddly childlike at times, particularly around Tony’s tech. Though, to be fair, most anyone would be in over their heads with that stuff.  This wasn’t Apple, after all.  Though, Tony had to admit, despite the giant gaps in Steve’s memory, the guy was quick enough to pick it up once you showed him how something worked.  Quite quick on the uptake, actually.  And you just had to show him the one time…

Tony thought back to last night, sitting in front of the TV with a couple of the news programs up on the screen, hoping maybe something would hit Steve as familiar, though Steve expressed nothing more than a vague sense of discomfort with it all, and started blushing again when the anchor talked about nude photos of celebrities getting hacked. Not that Steve-watching had become Tony’s pastime or anything. 

The fondue had actually been fun. Reminded Tony of his college days and made him want to put on Pink Floyd and hang a Scream poster up just for kicks. Plus, watching Steve eat was something of a revelation, Tony thought with a grin.   The thought of taking Steve to one of those Vegas buffets produced a small chuckle. 

Tony let his mind focus back on his mental list of Steve memories: cold, dark, train, snowy mountains, a red-faced man, military history, New York, Wizard of Oz, Italian…If there was some pattern there, he wasn’t seeing it.  More frustratingly, neither was JARVIS.  All of his searches, whatever parameters he set, had so far come back with giant goose eggs in the win column. 

Standing abruptly, he walked over to lean against the wall next to the ‘No Cell Phones’ sign and began typing out a new search for JARVIS to run relating to military history programs at colleges across the Northeast. Maybe someone was missing their ROTC-loving-history-major-quarterback?  It could happen. 

The thing was…well, the ever growing elephant in the room, really, was that Steve was the kind of guy that someone would be looking for. He would not go unmissed.  This was so obvious to Tony that it really hadn’t occurred to him that no one would come knocking on his proverbial door demanding to see their…whatever Steve was to them.  But, so far, nothing.  No missing persons reports.  No flyers.  No plea on the local news.  Not even a freaking missed connection on Craigslist.  Nothing.  If it bugged him this much, he had no idea what it must be like for Steve, to sit there waiting for the knock on the door to happen and just have to keep waiting and wondering why no one came, each hour another question.

Tony ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He needed more information.  He couldn’t do the equation unless he had all the variables. 

Finally, finally, the doors opened and Steve came back into the waiting room, gaze scanning around until it came to rest on Tony with relief evident in Steve’s features. So, if Tony fairly shot across the room to clamp his hands on Steve’s shoulders, that was totally to comfort Steve during this stressful time.

“Everything ok? What did the doctor say?  Did they do more tests?  Did you tell him about collapsing?” Tony rushed the words out, trying to scan Steve’s face for any hint of how the appointment might have gone.  Steve just looked a bit bewildered.  Toss-up between that just being due to the general memory issue or the man he’s known for two whole days acting like the world’s biggest mother hen.  Tony forced himself to stop spewing questions and let Steve talk.

“Um…hi, Tony. Thank you for waiting.  Yes, everything is fine.  They did another…MRI, I think they called it.   And another one of those CT scans.  Took some blood.  They’re supposed to call with the results, but he said he didn’t see anything on the scans that looked physically wrong.  I guess that’s good,” Steve told him.

“It’s noda tumah,” Tony said in his best Austrian accent, then grimaced stupidly as the reference flew right over Steve’s head.

“Huh? No, no tumor, I guess,” Steve went on.  “Anyway, I didn’t know what number to give them, so I gave them yours.  Hope that’s okay.  Yes, I told the doctor about the memory coming back and being…well, overwhelmed by it, but he said that was probably pretty normal. Gave me the number of someone to talk to about how I’m feeling.  Some kind of counselor, I guess. Not sure what to do with that, to be honest,” Steve finished, staring down at the card in his hand.  “I mean, I already talk to you, so…”  Steve shrugged. 

“Steve…not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but I have to be honest here. I’m about the last person…no, literally the actual last person, on the face of the Earth that you should entrust your emotional well-being to.  Seriously.  My neuroses have their own issues.  So, if you want to see this person and talk about…feelings…then you definitely should.  Not that you can’t talk to me.  Just that you should probably completely discount anything I say,” Tony informed him.  

Steve just frowned. “Why would I discount what you say?” Steve replied, turning to walk out the door.  “Just…tell me the truth.  That’s what matters.  Not making it all better, Tony.  That’s not what I need.”

“What do you need, then?” Tony asked, voice sounding gruff and strained to his ears.

“A friend, I guess,” Steve said. “I like to think I have that.”

“You do,” Tony said softly. “You definitely do.”

“Okay then. Good,” Steve smiled, a wide and true smile this time, and Tony had a flash of that cartoon they used to show every Christmas where the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes.  He could totally relate.

Tony spared a glance at the waiting room as he followed Steve out the door to the valet area, handing his ticket to the young man behind the podium. Something…something…he turned around to look back to the waiting room, his brain finally catching up to his subconscious.  “Hey, I have an idea,” Tony announced.  “Think you could maybe draw the things you remember, give me a better idea of what we’re looking for?” Tony queried, watching the little boy viciously swipe the blue crayon back and forth across the page as his mother typed something on her phone.

Steve paused for a moment. “Yeah.  Yeah, I think…that’s a good idea, Tony.”

A couple of hours and lunch at Tony’s favorite Italian place later, where Tony learned that Steve’s Italian was far better than his own, much to the delight of Ginanetti’s owner, Mario, they were back at the Tower where a courier had delivered the art supplies Tony had ordered. Steve was going through the box with an intense look about him, laying the pencils out on a work-table Tony had cleared off for him in some kind of order that seemed to make sense only to Steve.  A few minutes later and Steve had the sketchpad in his lap, hand wrapped around one of the pencils working furiously across the page, bottom lip captured between his teeth as he concentrated.  Oh boy.  When did art get so damn interesting?  Pepper would be proud.  Except not.

Tony turned his attention back to the computer in front of him, looking over the results of the various searches on Steve he’d been running. A few results popped up, but upon further investigation, none of the men listed as missing came close to matching Steve’s description unless Steve had suddenly grown ten inches overnight.  A couple hours and two more fruitless searches later, Tony sighed, and stared at the blank search screen.  Maybe he should expand his search internationally, given Steve’s fluency in Italian.  But Steve was clearly American, even had a bit of a New York accent at times, usually coming out when he was stressed.  Tony finally noticed that the workroom had quieted, no more scratches of pencil against paper.  Tony jerked his head around to see Steve looking down at whatever it was he’d drawn on the sketchpad, a deep frown marring his features. 

“Come up with something?” Tony questioned, standing and walking over to where Steve sat at the worktable.

Steve pulled the sketchpad closer to his chest, meeting Tony’s quizzical gaze with reluctance. “I—yes.  But…this…it can’t be right.  I don’t think this will help, Tony.  I’ll try again, maybe tomorrow.  I’m sure…it will be clearer then,” he stammered, starting to pack the supplies back in the box.

“Hey, no, wait…just let me take a look. Maybe it isn’t anything, but maybe it’s something that I’ll recognize.  Or just give us some kind of clue, you never know,” Tony urged.  “Promise I won’t laugh.  I can sketch out machines just fine, but ask me to draw a person and you get something that looks like a cracked-out Muppet.  Um…a very strange looking person,” Tony explained at Steve’s blank look.

“Okay. I guess.  Here,” Steve said, handing Tony the sketchpad and looking studiously back down at the table.  Tony flipped the pad to the first page, finding a surprisingly detailed snowy mountain landscape that looked down into a deep ravine of some kind.  At least on half of the page.  The other half was filled with blank space slashed through with deep, hard lines of pencil.  “There’s something there,” Steve said by way of explanation, since he obviously knew what Tony was looking at.  “But, I can’t see it.  Not yet, anyway.”

“This was the memory from last night? The one you said felt…bad, right?”  Tony said, as much to himself as Steve.  “Maybe your mind just isn’t ready to make you have to deal with whatever it was just yet.  Giving you time to adjust.  If it is something bad, I mean.  We don’t know….not for sure.”  Tony glanced back down at the page, noting again that the drawing was actually quite well done. Art student popped into Tony’s head, and he made a note to check with the various New York area art schools.  Military history, art, snow…God, this not knowing was killing him.  He couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Steve.

“That…that makes sense, Tony,” Steve was saying, nodding, gratitude for the explanation plain on his face. How hard must it be to have part of something like that, to know that it meant something important, and not be able to grasp the whole?   Like dangling the keys to the cell just out of reach.  Tony wondered if that was worse than a simple blank slate.  “The doctor, he said not to entirely trust the memories until we knew more about my past.  He said…well, I guess there is a lot about how the brain works that they don’t understand yet.  This…this is one of those things,” Steve continued dully.

“Hey, see there? You’re a medical marvel, Rogers. They’ll probably want to write a paper about you or something,” Tony said, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Don’t know about that,” Steve replied, scrunching his face and there, there Tony could hear the accent peek through. New York, definitely.  Brooklyn maybe?  Tony wasn’t an expert on New York accents, but he was almost certain Steve had grown up in the city.  Which made it all the more bizarre that there didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere in it. 

Tony flipped to the next page in the sketchbook. And almost dropped it.  Okay.  Well.  That was unexpected.  This must be the infamous red-faced man…which was not at all what Tony had been expecting.  Not red-faced in the sense of someone angry or embarrassed.  Red-faced as in the sense that this man, this…thing…from the depths of Steve’s mind had an entirely red skull, hairless and demonic, like his skin had been molded to fit around the bones of his skull without any kind of flesh underneath to soften it.  Okay, so confabulation it is then. 

“I know,” Steve intoned. “I know what that looks like.  I know…it can’t be real, but…that’s what I see in my head.  You said…you said anything would help,” Steve reminded him, voice pitching up slightly in expectation.  And hope. Damn.  Okay, well sure.  He could work with that.

“Yeah, definitely.  I mean, I don’t know what it is, but it could come from somewhere, like a book or movie or one of those online games. That could give us something to go one…” Tony replied, digging deep.  He was rewarded with a  small smile from Steve, which had absolutely nothing to do with his chest tightening spasmodically.  He’d damn well figure out who hellboy here was if it killed him before he told Steve this was just something his mind had conjured up and meant nothing.

Tony flipped to the last sketched page and stared down in confusion. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from his little art experiment with Steve, but it wasn’t this.  What in the world did these things mean?  What could they possibly have in common?A snowy mountain ravine.  A red-skulled demon. 

And a monkey with a star on his chest holding a motorcycle over his head.

Okay, then.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony scanned the sketches in to JARVIS and let his AI get started trying to find anything that might match Steve’s recollections. Tony decided to put everything to do with the searches aside for the day and let his mind think on it for awhile, see if any kind of pattern emerged.  He could now add several things to the mix, art, the red-skulled man, and the performing chimp.  Which led to…a face-painter at a circus.  Or not.  Okay, yeah, he was blitzed and needed to step away for a moment.  If that had the side effect of getting to spend time with Steve instead of down in his workshop, well, that just meant more time to gather information.  Of course. Because that’s what he was doing. 

Steve was quiet after the sketching, obviously turning things over in his mind and probably trying to dig up anything else, a frustrating process, no doubt. What he needed was a break from thinking about it.  Tony could certainly think of several ways to accomplish that, but ended up suggesting some time in the gym.  “It’s state of the art.  And you look like you work out…pilates or something.  Who knows, maybe you’ll suddenly remember you’re a personal trainer to the rich and famous,” _who I have obviously been remiss in hiring_ , Tony finished silently.

Steve shrugged in agreement. “Pilates?" Steve asked in confusion before just shaking his head.  "Worth a try, I guess.”  Which was how they ended up in the gym, Steve in loose-fitting black workout pants a white t-shirt that despite Tony’s best guess to Marcel had turned out at least a size too small.  He wasn’t even a bit sad about that, noticing how it splayed over what probably qualified as a twelve-pack let’s face it.  Steve was spotting Tony on the bench press bench as he lifted the barbell over his head in swift motions, up and down.  After twenty reps, and no Tony was not showing off at all, Steve grabbed the bar from him and set it on the mount with a frown.

“What?” Tony asked a bit breathless, because though he was totally not showing off, it had maybe been a few days (months) since he’d done that. What with the palladium trying to kill him and all. Today had seemed as good a day as any to dive back into the workout routine. Headfirst, if his sore arms were any indication.

“It’s light,” Steve said, lifting the bar again with little or no effort.

“Hey. I’m literally sitting right here, you know,” Tony replied dryly.  So, definitely not showing off then.  Jesus. 

“Hmmm? Oh, no.  No, I didn’t mean that…I mean, you…you…that was a very good workout,” Steve was stuttering out lamely now, and was he blushing again?  Clearly he wasn’t red-faced from effort like Tony.  “I just meant…it looked heavier than it was, is all.”  Tony resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.  Steve was toying with the bar, lifting it out of the mount and settling it back again like it was made of paper, and Tony was probably going to need a massage later from this and Steve and massage in the same sentence momentarily took his mind offline. 

“Tony?” he heard Steve call uncertainly.  Tony saw Steve glance away and look at the boxing ring set up in the center of the gym with obvious interest.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Okay, so enough of the weight training for now, I think.  You, ah…you want to try the ring for a bit?”  Tony asked, nodding at the ring.

“Don’t know if I box…” Steve replied, walking over to the ring.

“One way to find out,” Tony said with a grin, climbing through the ropes that Steve was holding up for him. Boxing he could do.  Tony handed Steve a set of headgear and gloves, putting his own on as well.  “We’ll take it slow, just try some footwork at first, no contact,” Tony instructed, starting to dance his feet around the mat.  Steve was stronger, sure, and had a longer reach, but Tony had years of training in various styles and techniques by some of the best instructors around, and had studied martial arts as well after the whole Afghanistan fiasco.  No excuse to be caught flat-footed again.

Which was why it came as something of a shock when he darted a jab meant to swipe past Steve’s head and found himself face planted into the mat.

“Tony! Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I swear,” Steve exclaimed, kneeling down by Tony and grasping him firmly under the arms to pull him to a sitting position.  “I didn’t actually hit you did I?  Please say I didn’t hit you.  That just…that just kind of happened.  I—“

“Steve, its okay. I’m okay.  You didn’t hit me, just…” _completely dodged me like I was moving in slow motion and tossed me into the mat with what looked and felt like no effort_.  “I’m fine.  Maybe we’d better take a step back though,” Tony managed to croak out as air returned to his lungs.

“Okay, yeah. That’s…probably a good idea,” Steve acknowledged with some relief.  They went back to dancing around each other a bit, Tony watching more intently now as Steve moved.  There was a grace there, the muscles shifting and bunching as he dodged and weaved around Tony.  And he was fast, too.  He’d turn this way or that and it was… _quick_.  Sharp.   Never off balance, no need to correct his movements, it all just seemed to come naturally. 

Huh. So, we add some kind of fight training to the list.  Boxing, sure, he’d obviously done that before, but when Tony switched it up to a different fighting style, Steve matched him, seemingly intuitively.  Which was just…weird.  And also, probably should be impossible for someone, unless he had years of training.  Which almost certainly meant military, but there had supposedly been no record of the serial number on Steve’s dogtags, but obviously, that didn’t necessarily mean Steve hadn’t been in the military.  As much as Tony didn’t want to think about reasons ‘Steve’ might be wearing some other guy’s tags, that was definitely a possibility.  As were other, more nefarious, reasons for the military to disclaim any knowledge of one of their own.  Point was, Tony was going to have to dig deeper, widen his search parameters and make a few slightly unauthorized forays into the DoD databases.

Right after he finished getting his ass kicked, that was, as he blamed the distraction of thinking about hacking classified military files for why he ended up on the mat. Again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve stammered again, reaching down to lift Tony up like he weighed nothing, and sure, that was a little hot. Or a lot.  Depends on if you defined ‘little’ as incredibly full of total and complete hotness or not.  Totally a personal call.  Sweating and breathing hard, Tony held up his hands in surrender.  Steve breathed out a laugh in return.  “That was fun,” he announced, grinning.  “We should do that again. That felt familiar,” Steve said with certainty.

“You don’t say,” Tony replied sarcastically, unwinding the laces of his gloves. “We’ll add it to the list then.”  And Tony watched with amusement as Steve pulled out a small notepad, took the tiny pencil from the metal spirals at the top and wrote something on an actual list.  Tony really thought if Pepper could see this, she’d give him a pass.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve done that before,” Steve said. “Are you sure you have?” he asked innocently, then broke into a wide grin at Tony’s quick double-take. 

“Very funny.   Hysterical, in fact there, Neo,” Tony huffed in mock annoyance.  “Neo?  The Matrix?  Nothing, huh?” Tony guessed as Steve shook his head.  “Okay, dinner and a movie tonight, then?” Tony offered, attempting nonchalant, but feeling a bit like the chess club captain asking the quarterback to prom.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds great,” Steve answered. “But…Tony, I mean, you’ve been great and all…with this…thing, but I…” and here it comes, Tony thought.  Not like this was unexpected, though following on the heels of getting his ass handed to him in the ring was a tad insulting.  It’s not you, it’s me.  Literally.  We can still be friends.  You’re being entirely too clingy and it’s creeping me out given that we’ve just known each other a couple of days and our acquaintance started with you running me over leading to a mysterious head injury and lost memory.  You know, the usual.  “I just think that I should maybe start…pulling my weight around here.  There has to be something I can do.”  And huh?  Tony gave his brain a minute to catch up before trying to reply.

“Something you can do?” Tony repeated stupidly.

“Yeah, to help out. I mean, you’ve been devoting a lot of time to all of this the past few days, but you obviously have more important things to do,” Steve reminded him. 

He did? That sounded reasonable, sure, but watching Steve with the white shirt sticking to his chest, eyes bright from their bout, such as it had been, well…his mind was blanking.

“You said you have a company, right? You’re moving part of it to the Tower soon. And you’re…Iron Man, which is certainly very important work, Tony.  I mean, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’m sure…I’m sure my family will find me soon.  We just have to give them time, like you said.  Maybe I’m not the type to call mom and dad every day, you know?  They may have only just realized something was wrong,” Steve suggested.  “And if I’m a student or worked odd hours or something…well, no one may have noticed…yet, I mean,” Steve went on. And there was something truly sad there, Tony thought, the idea that no one had missed Steve yet when the thought of Steve walking out of his life left some huge hole and he’d only know the man a couple of days.  How had these people of his not noticed? 

“I—yeah, um, the company. And Iron Man.  Of course. Yes, I have those things.  To do, I mean.  I do them,” dear God stop, Tony told himself. 

“Well, of course, and you should. I’ve taken up enough of your time, Tony.  You need to get back to what’s important,” Steve added, stepping through the ropes and climbing down, placing the headgear and gloves back in their place on the stand next to the ring. 

“What’s important…yes. I’m going to do that,” Tony said, thinking through another search algorithm that incorporated military training and art.

“Good,” Steve responded with a smile. “I’m going to go check out that Inter Net thing again.  Maybe I’ll find something this time.  And…I really think I should start doing something around here.  I mean, it’s great of you to give me a place to stay, really.  But…I should be contributing.  I’m sure…there must be something I can do to help…maybe with the Tower?  I think…I could maybe do some of the work around here,” he suggested.

“Um, yeah. Sure.  I’m sure there’s something. I’ll talk to the contractor about it,” Tony replied.

“Great! Thanks, Tony.  For everything,” Steve said, clapping a strong hand on Tony’s shoulder.  “I’m sure I’ll be out of your hair soon enough, but in the meantime, I should be doing something to help out,”  Steve said and released his grip on Tony’s shoulders to head towards the gym elevator, hitting the button to go down to the guest room level.  Tony watched the doors close behind him for a long moment.

Tony found himself plowing through numerous excuses for why he wasn’t jumping in head first with his plan to hack the classified DoD files. He wasn’t quite self-delusional enough to believe any of them.  If Pepper raised a delicate eyebrow when he told her on the video conference that he was working every angle to find Steve’s identity, well…Yeah.  Well.

He hated himself for it, sure. It was a shitty thing to do. Totally and completely the very lowest level of human excrement.  When Steve asked, he said he was working on searches, which was not a total lie.  He was still running basic search programs, looking for hits on the missing persons reports, that kind of thing.  JARVIS hadn’t come back with a couple of possibilities for the mountain Steve had drawn, two in the Austrian Alps and one on the French side that matched the general layout Steve had drawn, had similar vegetation and included train tracks, though neither area had been the site of any kind of train accident or derailment.  One lost climber fifteen years ago, but nothing that lined up with Steve’s memory.  The red-skulled man drew a few religious iconography type things, several horror books with relatively similar characters, two possibilities from online games that made Tony wonder what twelve year olds were up to these days, but the monkey with the motorbike came up with such random results as to be virtually useless.  Not that he, or JARVIS for that matter, had been able to discern what these things had in common.  So, point being, it wasn’t like he wasn’t doing anything.  There was truth there.  Steve has asked him for that, after all, asked him to be a friend. 

A part of him said to hell with it, let these people who wanted Steve back come find him. Where were they, after all?  Another part of him felt horrible, imaging Steve’s mom or dad worrying themselves sick about where he was and how that would make Steve feel to know.  He spent long hours thinking about how he could hack the into the Pentagon’s classified files, while resolutely not doing it.  Instead, he took Steve to dinner at his favorite Thai place, watched movies with him (Steve didn’t remember Star Wars, so Tony got to introduce him to it as it should be viewed…without any reference to the prequels’ existence), showed him how to download books to the Stark Tablet he’d given him, and, on what turned out to be an inspired whim, took him to the Met, watching Steve walk from painting to painting in awe.  He bought a guidebook and Steve spent long hours curled on the sofa in the workroom  paging through it while Tony worked on the latest armor until Tony got frustrated and downloaded a whole guide to the Louvre onto a Stark Tablet and handed it to Steve without a word. 

The doctor called, Tony’s phone of course, and he watched Steve’s noncommittal responses to whatever the doctor was saying, fidgeting with his tools and trying to avoid a full-out pearl-clutching incident while he waited for the verdict.

“Seems everything is okay,” Steve said, voice a bit flat. “That’s good, I mean.  Good news,” Steve said firmly, but Tony could tell that there was some part of him that had been hoping for a physical answer to this problem, one that could be diagnosed, healed and treated.  “He still thinks I should see the counselor, talk about how I’m ‘adjusting’” Steve spat out the word like it had insulted his mom.  “I don’t want to adjust to this, Tony.  I want answers.”

“I know. I know, Steve and we’ll find them, I swear.  I know I sound like a broken record you probably don’t want to hear, but it has only been a few days.  You’ve got to give it time,” Tony pleaded, though he realized that the more days slipped by, the thinner that suggestion became. 

Steve just nodded and went back to swiping through the Louvre’s impressionist collection, but Tony could see the tense set of his shoulders and jaw, the way his movements across the tablet’s screen lacked their usual finesse. He knew what the continued absence of any sense of self was doing to Steve, and each day that went by without someone banging on his door demanding Steve’s return was another blow.  He had no idea what to do with that. 

But Steve had said he wanted a friend. And he wanted the truth.  That, at least, was something Tony could give him.

“I don’t…pretend to know what it must be like, losing your memory of who you are, losing your…place in the world like that,” Tony began, not turning around to Steve just yet but still staring at the blank screen in front of him. He could see his reflection illuminated by the soft blue glow of the reactor, could see Steve sitting up, attentive, listening from across the room.  “How I got this,” Tony said, tapping the reactor, “how I became Iron Man…in a way, I guess I had everything that made me Tony Stark stripped away, too.  Not the same, of course.  I’m not saying that.  I knew my name, I knew my friends, well, the handful of them there were, but …but I didn’t know who I was, not until the cave.  Not until this,” Tony continued, pressing the flat of his palm against the reactor and swiveling the stool to face Steve.  “I let other people define me for years.  It nearly got me killed, and Pepper for that matter.  But, in the end, I found who I was supposed to be.”

Steve was staring intently at Tony, blue eyes reflecting the shine of the reactor’s light. “You became Iron Man.  A hero,” Steve stated, and Tony was almost sure he heard something like pride in Steve’s voice. 

“Well, not everyone can wake up and realize they’re a superhero, but yeah. I’m just saying…sometimes figuring out who you are, who you really are, means figuring out who you want to be.  Maybe it takes time to find out who you were, find a name or social security number, but in the meantime…”  Tony faltered. 

“In the meantime, I can figure out who I want to be,” Steve finished for him. “That…that’s a good plan, Tony.”  He smiled gently at Tony, but there was less tension in the set of his shoulders, a softness in his face that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“I’m the man with a plan,” Tony crowed, and watched Steve’s face go blank. “You okay there?” he asked in concern.

“Uh, yeah. Fine.  Just…yeah, fine,” Steve replied.  “It’s a good idea, Tony.  Really.  And…I’m sorry, about what happened to you.  I’m glad you’re Iron Man now…I read on the Inter Net about what you’ve been able to do…but, I’m sorry you had to go through something like that, even if it did end up being for the greater good.  And for what it’s worth, I think you would’ve figured out who you wanted to be without the…without what happened.  If you’d had the choice, you’d have picked hero,” Steve said casually. 

“You don’t…you don’t know what I was like, Steve. Before, I mean.  It wasn’t exactly an example of restraint.  Never listened much to anyone, only cared about myself. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I got into when I was younger.  Well, maybe you would.  You’ve been on the internet.  I’m sure you’ve seen the videos and pictures.  Hell, my parents threatened to send me to military school when I was a kid, but I’d probably have gotten kicked out in record time,” Tony admitted. 

“You may not have been a perfect soldier, but you were a good man, Tony,” Steve replied seriously, then blinked a bit. “Sometimes…sometimes you need to know weakness to know compassion.” 

“Huh. Well, I’ve had about all the weakness I want for a good, long while. Thus the suits,” he said, nodding around the room at the various iterations of the armor. 

“They are amazing, that’s for sure. Beautiful,” Steve responded, and Tony resisted the urge to go put one on so Steve could see what he looked like in the suit.  He’d be taller than Steve then…could lift him…could…well, and where is a convenient towel to drape over one’s lap when they need it, he thought, turning back to the screen

“Well, style matters. When you’re me, anyway.  I’m all about style, you know?” Tony responded, throwing a grin over his shoulder and catching Steve rolling his eyes.

Tony brought up the Tower specs, making a few minor adjustments here and there for all of ten minutes before growing tired of it and grabbing Steve, over his protestations, to go walk through Central Park, ostensibly to test Steve’s recollection, but mostly because it was a beautiful day and while that had never drawn Tony from his workshop before, it seemed to do the trick now. Tony steadfastly refused to delve too deeply into that one. Steve liked the outdoors and hot dogs from the park venders and hell, sunshine and rainbows, what the fuck ever.  Steve was happy, distracted from worrying about when what Tony was assuming was an increasingly useless family was going to show up, so it was all good. 

That night, after a dinner spent trying to catch Steve up on the current U.S. engagements abroad and the socio-political-religious ideologies at work, Tony found a Stooges marathon on one of the late night TV channels and soon found himself doubled over in laughter next to Steve on the sectional.  “So, basically,” Tony laughed, “think of Putin as Curly, the U.S. as Moe and most of Europe as Larry, and it will all make so much more sense.”  And if Tony nudged slightly closer to Steve, letting his warm thigh press against Tony’s while they snickered like twelve year olds, well, who was to criticize?  The weekend was a whirlwind for Tony, getting everything finalized for the Tower to go online and function properly.  Steve’s presence was oddly calming, his confidence in Tony’s ability to pull this together unwavering and somehow more comforting than all of Pepper’s emailed assurances that things were on track and would go off without a hitch. 

Steve started helping out on one of the construction crews bright and early the next morning, Tony watching him work through the video feed JARVIS supplied. Because he was concerned. About Steve’s health.  If he minimized the screen when Pepper stopped by with the latest version of the contracts for the arc reactor that was soon to provide their power, that was hardly indicative of anything.  There wasn’t a great deal of work left to be done, but it was oddly pleasing though, to see Steve’s quiet diligence applied to something Tony had put his heart and soul in like the Tower.  He knew how much Steve had been chafing at not feeling useful, so if this helped alleviate that, all the better.  Apparently, Steve had actually listened to Tony’s half-baked Oprah moment about finding himself and decided to start with Tony’s Tower.  Go figure.

“Your pet project is still here, I see,” Pepper commented evenly,, letting herself into the workshop. “Insurance wants to talk to him, by the way.  Does he have a lawyer?”

“Hmmm? No.  Not…no.  No lawyer,” Tony replied. 

“Well, he probably should. Just to be safe.  I heard you gave him a job,” Pepper stated, raising her eyebrows.

“He wanted to help,” Tony replied. “And he’s good, ask what’s his name, the foreman guy.”

“I’m sure he is, but Tony…we don’t even have a way to pay employment taxes on him…he has no documentation, no identity. Not to mention the whole issue of you nearly smushing him with your car.  Happy sends his regards by the way.  He’s doing fine.  Ready to come back to work, but I told him to take another week just to be sure,” Pepper informed him, and Tony felt a spike of guilt that she’d had to tell him that and he hadn’t asked. 

“So, what does he do around here when he isn’t working anyway?” Pepper questioned curiously.

“Eh, you know, hanging out, I guess. I mean, we eat.  Dinner and all.  Maybe catch a movie or TV.  Gym.  Um…went to the Met.  And the park the other day, just to get out a bit.  I was thinking of maybe the symphony tomorrow night.  SI has the box and Steve likes music, and then maybe Le Bernadin after, so…” Tony trailed off, watching Pepper’s face twitch and reviewing what he’d been saying to find the trap that was surely there.

“Oh.My.God.” Pepper stammered. “You…you’re dating him. You.  You’re…like, stealth dating the amnesiac you hit with your car.  Tony.  God.  Just…Does he even realize you’re dating him?"

“What? No, no, we’re not dating, Pep, we’re…I’m helping him…to try to remember things…” Tony attempted, the words feeling large and weighty as the rolled out of his mouth.  Wait.  No. Pepper was crazy.  That was…he wasn’t dating Steve.  He was…hanging out with Steve and laughing with Steve and walking in the park with Steve and taking Steve to dinners and movies and symphonies and, oh dear Lord. 

“Uh-huh. And in this valiant attempt to help him remember things, you decide to take him on private tours of the Met after hours?” Pepper asked slyly.

“Hey! You’ve been spying!  That’s totally not fair, by the way.  And underhanded.  And sneaky.  I expected better of our CEO, quite frankly,” Tony sighed dramatically.

“You had Lance in marketing arrange it, Tony!” Pepper shouted.  “And asked him about a champagne carriage ride, for Pete’s sake!”  Ok, so that had been maybe a little over the top.  For now.

“Tony…don’t you think this whole thing is a little…suspicious? I mean, you, one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world, just happen to run into some random guy, who then conveniently loses his memory…and now he’s here, in the Tower, right as we are about to go online?  So much is riding on this…I just don’t know, Tony.  And no one has come forward looking for him?  It’s been over a week since the accident.  It…it doesn’t feel right, Tony.  Something is off here,” Pepper insisted. 

The problem was, Tony knew that. He’d known it for awhile now.  Something about this whole thing was off.  Way off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.  He just…knew it wasn’t Steve.  At least, not directly.  “He’s not some spy, Pep.  He doesn’t have it in him, I’d swear to that.  This isn’t industrial espionage or…whatever,” Tony answered. 

“Are you sure, Tony? After Natalie…are you really sure about that?” Pepper entreated softly.  “We don’t know what else is out there, trying to take you down, trying to get at Iron Man.  He’s in your lab all the time.  Around the armors, living in the Tower…with supposedly no history, no identity…well, that’s awfully convenient, Tony.  If the government wants to get its hands on what you’re working on, you’ve not only laid out the welcome mat, you sprinkled it with rose petals,” Pepper accused, not unkindly though.  “I’m just…worried, is all, Tony.  This should’ve been over days ago.  And then…if you’d wanted to pursue something, I mean…I want you to be happy, but…Tony, you have to see that this is…beyond strange at this point.”

Tony knew she was right, of course. He’d known that for days, but let the fleeting thoughts slough off his mind while Steve played with the bots and made those adorably dry jokes and listened to Tony talk while he worked.  He knew he needed to stop messing around and peek into the military files.  He’d put it off long enough, but the fact that Pepper was concerned brought it to the forefront. 

“Okay…I—you’re right. I know.  Look, I’m…I don’t want to say what, but I’m working on something.  I think…maybe that will explain things.  And if not…well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get there,” Tony said with a defeated sigh. 

“Tony…Tony, I’m sorry. Really. I don’t want—“ Pepper began.

“I know, Pep. I—he—I know.  I’ll take care of it.  But, really, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.  It isn’t like he asks any questions about the armors or the Tower or anything.  At least, not beyond the things you’d expect,” Tony said, not mentioning that this could be because Tony jabbered on proudly about it without Steve needing to do more than nod and throw in the occasional exclamation that showed he was suitably impressed.  “He just wants to find out who he is and get back to his life,” Tony mumbled, staring down at the keypad in front of him.

“Then—Tony…then do that. For him.  Okay?” Pepper asked quietly. 

Tony nodded, not looking up as her heels clanging on the floor signaled her exit. Once she was gone, Tony felt himself mentally regroup.  Not that Pepper’s concerns were invalid or anything. From the outside, he could totally understand her suspicion.  It was just…she didn’t know Steve.  Hadn’t spent time with him.  Seen his amazement at the idea of pausing live TV and his inability to operate the automated parking meters.  No way this was some tech-grab. 

Still, he needed to stop putting it off and check the classified files, if for nothing else than to eliminate that concern. And he would do that.  He would.  Right after he spent a few hours finalizing the Tower specs, he told himself, pulling up the blueprints, the blue glow of the model appearing in front of him.  He made a few changes here and there, easier once he’d seen it and touched it, and hit print to print off paper copies for the contractor. So old school.  He moved the older copies without his most recent changes aside, and started to stack them up when he noticed pencil marks here and there on each page of the blueprints.  These were from last night’s revisions, so he hadn’t handed them off to the contractor yet, so it couldn’t be questions from the contractor just yet…he looked more closely, flipping through the pages and then holding them together to see the pattern forming. 

Someone had made changes to the Tower blueprints. Someone had…huh.  That was…huh.  Tony looked again, to be sure he wasn’t mistaken.  Someone had…added defensive measures and fortifications to the blueprints, in addition or sometimes in lieu of, the ones Tony had designed.  And…damn.  They were…improvements.  Shit.  Looking at a couple of the changes, he had to wonder how he’d missed that.  Like putting the bracelets linked to Tony’s bio-signature that would call the new remote armor in strategic locations around the Tower.  Which, yeah, that seems like an obvious idea now that it is staring Tony in the face. While some of the hand-scrawled notes lacked the technological panache of what could actually be done to address the issue, all of the little scribbles about the Tower’s security were clearly finding things that Tony and his obviously highly overpaid security team had missed entirely or offered ways that what was already in place could be significantly improved.  Which was…at once annoying and intriguing.  Because really, only one person would have access to these and would be drawing on them in pencil, let’s face it. 

Okay, Tony thought, turning back to his computer.

Let’s find out who the fuck Steve Rogers is.


	9. Chapter 9

_Why is nothing ever simple?_ Tony wondered, hours later.  Sure, on one hand, he was deeply disturbed by some of the things he’d found on his little foray into the Department of Defense’s supposedly secure database, but as for anything that could possibly relate to Steve, he came up empty.  Want to know what the government has been doing with all your private data?  He’s your man.  Want to know the location of certain CIA black houses that aren’t supposed to be operating anymore?  Tony Stark has the info.  Want to know who the man you nearly mowed down with your car is and Tony is suddenly Jon Snow. 

He knows nothing.

Not that there weren’t still virtual reams of data to comb through. But it turns out that finding a needle in a haystack when you don’t actually know if you’re looking for a needle or a pen or a platypus is somewhat more difficult than Tony had anticipated. Not to mention that there were limits to what even he could do without direct access to the server.  Some things weren’t connected to outside servers for a reason.  Probably because of people like Tony.

Granted, Tony had only gotten so deep into the classified files, but still. Tony felt he or, more likely, JARVIS, would have found it by now.  Unless they weren’t looking in the right place.  That, or whoever Steve was, the files were buried somewhere close to the launch codes.  Which didn’t make any sense. There were black ops, sure, covert activities…but if there were a Steve Rogers or someone matching Steve’s description who had been involved in that in the past twenty years, he’d have found it.  Maybe there just wasn’t anything to find.  He’d been so certain though….Steve’s reactions in the gym, the effortless way he fought, combined with his recollection of at least some kind of combat…maybe Steve was some kind of Jason Bourne figure, trained by the military and now rogue, hunted down by…okay, no one because no one was looking for Steve or the giant breadcrumb trail since the accident would’ve pointed a neon arrow right at Tony.  Not like he could be accused of being subtle.  He heard the sound of the door code being entered from behind him and quickly swiped the screen blank.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve said, coming in and sitting down at the table to spread his lunch out. “Want some?” he asked, indicating the sandwiches and chips.   Tony grunted out a no and waved his hand dismissively, pulling up the Tower specs again.  He’d already had his people in rendering incorporate Steve’s penciled in suggestions into the blueprints and sent a strongly worded email to his security team.  He was working on a few minor improvements to the power grid when he found himself chewing part of the sandwich in his hand and looked down to find a plate and half-eaten bag of chips next to him.  Huh.  Well, okay then, he though, looking around to see Steve engrossed in his tablet again.  Guess he had been kind of hungry.  Had he eaten breakfast?  Coffee, he definitely remembered coffee.  But Steve had gone to work at the butt-crack of dawn so…there hadn’t really been a reason for breakfast. 

“So, um. I saw your notes on the Tower blueprints,” Tony mentioned nonchalantly.  “Those were some good suggestions.”

“You think?” Steve asked. “I hope so.  I just…I got to looking at them while I was waiting here the other day and, well…just had some ideas.  Hope it helps,” he responded, going back to his tablet as if nothing major had occurred.  Because he had just confirmed that he had looked at Tony’s very detailed blueprints, understood them and been able to, apparently off the top of his head, come up with new designs to make the structure safer, both from the interior and exterior, and more defensible from attack, which, in Tony’s line of work was definitely a real possibility.  Tony wanted to bang his head on his desk in frustration.  He wanted to rather unproductively shake Steve and demand he tell him who he was.  It was childish, he knew, particularly when Steve was handling this about as well as anyone could be expected. 

“Hey, so there’s a party tomorrow night. For the Tower.  Kind of a big deal.  Grand opening sort of thing, though technically, we don’t go online until I plug us into the arc reactor next week, but publicity, blah, blah, blah.  It’ll be fun.  Lots of food, booze, dancing, that kind of thing,” Tony explained. 

“That sounds nice, Tony. Do you need me to help with that?” Steve offered. 

“Hmmm…? Oh, no.  No, no, there’s this whole event team that handles that kind of thing for SI,” Tony said, clearing his throat.  And could he be more awkward with this?  Jesus, get a grip, Stark.  “Thought you might like to go.  Who knows, maybe someone will recognize you,” Tony finished lamely.

“I—sure. If you want,” Steve replied.  Tony would wait until he left to break out the happy dance. 

“Great! You’ll need a tux. Black tie and all. Don’t worry, I’ll have something sent to your apartment,” Tony rushed on before Steve could consider backing out.  “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” 

By the time the next night rolled around, Tony was wound up like a spring. He was excited about the Tower, yes, obviously, he’d put years of planning into this.  So that was…twelve percent of his excitement.  The rest of the knowing pit in his stomach was reserved for a certain walking mystery who really should be out here already because the party started in…okay forty minutes, but still.  Tony scanned down the hall again, finding it empty, so getting up to fix himself a drink.  A softly called, “Evening, Tony,” caused him to clink the bottle of scotch against the glass as he startled.  Geez, the guy could be quiet when he wanted…oh God.  Dear Lord in Heaven.  Tony wasn’t sure if it was possible to continue to function when you couldn’t get air into your lungs.  It obviously wasn’t possible to form words, because none were forthcoming as he looked at the sight of Steve in a black tuxedo, the cut emphasizing broad shoulders, narrow waist and strong legs, the simple black with white shirt setting off a contrast to his hair and golden skin, and really, Tony should just give up and start writing bad poetry for tumblr. 

“Steve,” Tony managed, because that was literally the only word his brain could produce at this point.

“You look good,” Steve observed simply. “Ready for tonight?” 

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah.  Yeah, definitely.  Very ready. For tonight.  For the…” because Tony was sure they were dressed up for a reason.  “The party.  The Tower party.  That’s why I’m ready.  Because it is tonight.  So, I’m ready.”  Muzzles.  Muzzles were good.   Perfectly acceptable evening wear, really.  He could start a trend.  Let’s face it, it wouldn’t even be the worst thing Pepper’d caught him doing.

“Great,” Steve responded brightly. “Ready when you are.”  Oh boy.  Tony swallowed down what bit of scotch he’d actually managed to pour and headed towards Steve. 

By the time the elevator reached the Tower lobby, the guests were starting to trickle in.   Pepper was already there, of course, and looked shocked to see Tony arrive so early, but her expression quickly changed to one of slight exasperation when Steve exited the elevator behind him.  Pepper rolled her eyes and went back to making sure the event went off without a hitch.  Tony headed for the bar. 

“You want?” Tony asked, indicating the bar.

“Sure…uh, I guess whatever you’re having is fine,” Steve answered, taking the tumbler of amber liquid when the bartender handed it to him. He made a face as he took a sip, but took another a moment later.  “Don’t remember this,” Steve said with a lopsided smile.  “Not bad, though.  I could get used to it.”

“Ha, well, I’d tell you not to overindulge, but that would be the height of hypocrisy. Look, I’ve got to mingle or Pepper will have my head or other more delicate parts, so just grab some food, relax and enjoy, okay.  If you need anything…or if you have any problems…or if you start to not feel well or…”

“Tony. Go.  I’ll be fine.  Don’t worry,” Steve said, cutting him off and grabbing him by the elbow to actually shuffle him along like a wayward child. 

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” Tony mumbled, heading off towards where Pepper was animatedly waving him over.  Two hours later and the party was in full swing, though Tony couldn’t give a flying fuck because he couldn’t find Steve anywhere.  He should be able to find Steve’s tall frame even in this melee, but nothing.  Unless he was hiding behind a ficus, Steve wasn’t in the lobby anymore.  Giving up any attempt at nonchalance, Tony pressed a button on his phone and hurriedly asked JARVIS for Steve’s location.  Upstairs, private living room.  Okay, so Steve had gone back upstairs.  Made sense.  Probably just got tired of a party where he didn’t know anyone.  Tony shouldn’t have left him so long.  He was most likely just taking a breather upstairs.  Which was what he told himself as he left the party for his Tower, shook his head at Pepper when she shot him a look as he headed for the elevator and jabbed in the code for his private floors.  When the doors pinged open to the living room, he stumbled out and jerked to a stop.  Steve was standing by the floor to ceiling windows, forearm braced against the glass as he leaned towards the window, staring down at the city below. 

He’d obviously heard the elevator and had turned towards where Tony was now standing dumbly, no idea of what to say. I couldn’t find you for a moment so I rushed up here to make sure you were okay even though you’re an adult and I’m…just the random guy that happened to nearly kill you?

“Tony? Everything okay with the party?” Steve asked in concern.

“Uh, yeah. Fine.  Great, actually.  Pepper’s thrilled,” Tony replied.  “I just…um…” and yeah, he really had no other explanation for what he was doing dashing up here.

“I’m fine, Tony,” Steve said, as if reading his thoughts. “But, thank you for checking.  That was…you’re…very kind.”

“I’m really not,” Tony countered, closing the distance between them. In the darkened room, he could just see the shadows etching the planes of Steve’s face, the lights of the city below casting a soft, golden glow throughout the room.  “Why’d you leave?”

Steve shrugged. “Lots of people.  Just felt…a little lost, I guess.  Needed a break.  Not sure I’m a fan of crowds.”

Tony nodded. Just because he’d spent most of his life entertaining the masses, whether intentionally or not, didn’t mean most people found schmoozing the glitterati appealing.  “Want a drink?” Tony asked, heading to the bar again. 

“Nah. I had a few downstairs.  They didn’t seem to really do much for me,” Steve replied, shrugging.  

“Couple a’these and you’ll be table-dancing in no time. End up on Page Six,” Tony said, taking a long drink.

“Don’t know what that is, but I don’t think I’ll be doing much dancing. Don’t seem to know how.  I think I might have two left feet,” Steve said with a soft smile, something sad moving behind it. 

“You? No way.  I’ve seen the way you move in the gym.  You just need someone to show you once and you’d have it down,” Tony insisted, letting the scotch flow down and settle in his stomach.  This was so not a good idea.  So very, very not a good idea.  There was a party downstairs.  His party.  For his Tower.  The one he’d been working on for ages.  Just the start of his whole clean energy project.  Pepper had worked long hours getting everything ready.  She was going to kill him, obviously.  Goes without saying.  So, there were many and varied reasons why this was not a good idea.  But, he found himself walking slowly over to where Steve reclined against the glass, stopping just in front of him.

“Dance with me,” Tony said, holding out a hand. For a heartbeat, he thought Steve wasn’t going to do it, wouldn’t meet him part of the way, but then Steve’s large, warm hand slid into his and he was pulling Steve to the center of the living room to give them space.  “JARVIS, music,” Tony instructed.  He wrapped one arm around Steve’s waist, letting his fingers splay over Steve’s lower back and placed the other hand cupped in Steve’s, Ms. DuLaine’s instructions coming back from the far reaches of his brain.  Please don’t let me fuck this up, Tony thought, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he meant the dance or something else. 

He began moving, slowly at first, really just swaying, letting Steve get used to the rhythm, as Glenn Miller echoed through the living room. Steve was hesitant at first, looking down to watch his feet, presumably to make sure he didn’t step on Tony’s toes.  At some point, Tony moved Steve through a few actual dance steps, not at all surprised when he picked it up quickly once shown how.  Tony wasn’t sure how long the music had stopped while he was still swaying slightly, feet barely moving, as he held Steve against him, all warm and solid and strong. 

Tony couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to, really. He leaned up and ran his lips across Steve’s mouth, just lightly grazing Steve’s lips before pulling back to look at Steve’s expression.  Steve’s eyes were dark blue in the low light, wide and staring at Tony with something Tony couldn’t name.  They’d stopped moving, but hadn’t let go.  Tony felt his mouth go dry.  He stretched up again, pressing his mouth more firmly against Steve’s this time, angling his head just so.  And he would’ve stopped, then, he really would have, but Steve’s lips parted with a soft sigh, breath flowing into Tony’s mouth and that was it, Tony was gone.  Taking that as an invitation, Tony swiped his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip and then pushed past Steve’s mouth to explore the wet heat inside, scraping along teeth, flicking up to fill Steve’s mouth and finding Steve’s tongue to parry with, Steve’s taste filling his senses, and holy fucking Christ...that was...Tony gave up, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Like...like everything all at once and not nearly enough. Tony pressed his body against Steve’s, feeling the press of Steve’s hard chest against his own, breathing in and out in the same rythym, Steve’s heart racing against the reactor. _No way to hide my interest now_ , Tony thought, the press of Steve’s hip against his erection causing a soft rub of fabric over the length that force out an involuntary groan. Kissing wasn’t supposed to be like this, like drowning, like falling, like…like…

Flying, actually, was Tony’s last thought before he hit the back of the sofa with no small amount of force, falling bonelessly into a sitting position and gaping up at Steve from where he ended up in heap of pillows and confusion. Steve had slammed back against the bar in a panicked and uncharacteristically graceless stumble, breathing heavily, face flushed a deep red, hands fisted at his sides.  He was shaking his head back and forth furiously, staring in abject horror at Tony.  “Tony…” he gasped out.  “I—are you okay?   I didn’t…I’m not…I’m sorry…we can’t…I—“ Steve stammered, but didn’t move from his spot, backed against the bar.  “That…I don’t…they’ll know…I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, Steve, it’s okay. I’m fine,” Tony said too quickly, pulling himself up into less of a sprawling heap and more of a respectable position. “I misread.  No means no, I get it.  Don’t freak out.”  Well that had gone spectacularly poorly, Tony thought bitterly. 

Steve nodded jerkily, crossing his arms in front of his chest and seeming to fold in on himself. “I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to push you like that.  I…don’t know my own strength sometimes, I guess.”

“No harm done,” Tony said, standing up. And oh, it was awkward now.  Damn. 

 _Godfreakingdammit_.  Why did he have to go and do that?  Boundary issues, Tony. _Jesus, fuck_.  Now he’d screwed it all up, which, while likely inevitable, nevertheless managed to be crushingly disappointing. 

“I’m still sorry,” Steve said, sounding miserable. “For…all of it.”

“No need to apologize. Really.  My fault.  Look, let’s just forget it.  Come on back to the party, relax, enjoy.  I’ve been remiss.  I’ll introduce you around,” Tony offered, straightening his tux and walking as casually as he could towards the elevator. 

“I—I think it would be best if I sat the rest of the night out,” Steve said, looking down and seeming to force himself to unfold his arms. God-dammit, now Steve would rather hole up in his room than risk Tony’s company again. Spec-fucking-tacular, Stark.

Tony nodded, unable to force words past the lump in his throat. He’d screwed this…whatever this was, had been or had a chance to be…totally up.  He stepped into the elevator, turning so he got one last glimpse of Steve, leaning heavily against the bar, watching Tony with a strange sort of sadness.

If he’d been a braver man, the good man Steve said he was, he’d have stopped the doors from closing.

They shut as Steve grimaced, as if in pain, and turned away.

Three hours later, the party was done, and the Tower, emblazoned with Tony’s name, officially almost official. Years of planning, design, construction, wrangling with the city for permits, arguing with the Board about…well…everything, and they were literally days away from hooking the whole thing to its own independent power source, proving to the world that true clean energy could be delivered efficiently and reliability in a cost-effective manner.

Tony couldn’t give a fuck.

Steve’s room had been dark when he’d looked down the hall after returning from the party. Tony stalked to his suite in the penthouse, undoing his cufflinks and loosening his bowtie as he went.  So, basically, the thing with Steve was an unmitigated disaster.  He made his way into the large walk-in closet, shedding clothes as he went.  He toed off his dress shoes and was unbuttoning the annoyingly tiny buttons on his dress shirt when he noticed his clothes had been returned from the dry cleaner’s, still wrapped in the plastic overlay.  On the front was the suit he’d been wearing the day they’d crashed into Steve.  He could still see the faint red spots where Steve’s blood had pooled as he’d cradled his head. 

Tony put his head in his head in his hands, running his hands through his hair and staring at the evidence of the harm he’d already done. Head wounds bleed a lot, he reminded himself dully, looking at the ruined suit, but he couldn't talk himself away from the knowledge that a couple of weeks ago, he could've killed Steve and now…now he was…pissed, hurt, angry, God, he didn’t even know…because the guy didn’t want him.  How fucked up was that?  He’d obviously been projecting his…attraction…onto Steve.  Who’d been pretty darn clear about his level of disinterest, what with the tossing Tony off of him and slamming himself against the bar to get away from Tony’s advances.  Oh, Steve was _sorry_.  Very, very sorry.  After all, Tony had given him a place to stay, clothes, food.  No reason for Steve to feel, gosh, Tony, beholden or anything.  Way to put the guy in a supremely awkward position, you narcissistic bastard. 

Really, why didn’t a super-villain attack when you needed it?

Tony pulled the plastic off of the clothes, running his hands idly over the light red smears. There was a note attached, telling him how they couldn’t get the stains out.  Well, some things aren’t made to just fade away, are they?  He ripped the receipt off, starting to crumple it into a ball when he noticed there was writing on the back of it. 

Just one word.

One word and a star.

One word and a star that looked like the one on the monkey’s chest on the drawing Steve had done.

What the holy hell was ‘Rebirth’ supposed to mean?


	10. Chapter 10

“I think my dry cleaner is sending me coded messages about Steve,” Tony informed Pepper during their morning video call.

“Excuse me?” Pepper asked incredulously.

“Nothing. Nevermind.  I’m dealing with it,” Tony said stoically, letting Pepper get back to telling him about stock valuations.  At least now, when he got back into the Defense database, he had his needle.  Rebirth.  Whatever that was.  His call to the dry cleaner’s had gone…spectacularly uselessly.  They did promise to send him a coupon though, so.  There’s that. Either Shin should be replacing DeNiro, or he had no clue what Tony was talking about.

“Have you been drinking?” Pepper questioned him.

“What? No, no.  Just…no.  Forget it, I’m listening.  Stock prices.  Go,” Tony replied. 

His mind drifted as Pepper talked about the upcoming SI stockholders’ meeting. He probably should care, but that’s what he had Pepper for.  Rebirth.  Rebirth.  He kept mentally chanting it, like a mantra.  He was self-aware enough to admit that he hadn’t exactly been at his most…diligent…when it came to finding Steve’s identity. At least, not since those first couple of days.  While he could tell himself that it was because hacking into classified files just to find a person’s identity and not to say, stop an apocalypse, was a bit on the overzealous side, even for him, the truth was that it had somehow become increasingly difficult to spend time searching for information that would enable Steve to leave him. Which.  Yeah.  He knew that was utterly shitty. 

But now…now he had this whole ‘Rebirth’ thing. And, let’s be honest, it was easier to think about solving the Steve puzzle than the fact that he’d managed to completely fuck things up with Steve in such a spectacular fashion that he hadn’t seen the man since he’d thrown Tony across the room for kissing him. 

Kinda hard to take that any other way than rejection, when you get right down to it.

But…but the thing was…before the throwing, and granted, he realized that anything that came after “before the throwing” is probably reaching a tad…there had been something there, something soft and warm and wonderful for a few brief moments. Tony was experienced enough to know interest when he met it.  Or stuck his tongue in its mouth. Whatever.  He remembered the way Steve’s lips moved beneath his, the way Steve’s body had leaned into him, the way Steve’s mouth had parted beneath his…that was not Tony reading too much into things.  He was…mostly, almost, well…pretty close to certain on that.  Mostly.

“Fine, look, Pep, that all sounds great. I’m totally onboard.  Hundred percent supportive here,” Tony piped up, because it seemed like there had been an expectant pause in the call.

“Any idea what I was just saying?” Pepper asked. “Any idea at all?  I will let you off the hook for these calls for the next six months if you can tell me any of the thoughts that came out of my mouth in the past, oh, three minutes.”

Tony blinked. “Stock,” he tried.

“Stock what?” Pepper questioned.

“Stoooooccccck….” Tony hummed, considering options for additional words that might be relevant.

“Next time, when I want your attention, I’ll just try this: Steve is so handsome. Steve is so nice.  Steve is so funny. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve,” Pepper teased.

“Totally not fair, Pep. On the other hand, that’s one phone call going on the calendar,” Tony grinned.

“Goodbye, Tony. I have a company to run,” Pepper said.

“And you do it so well. For which, you shall be handsomely rewarded,” Tony replied dramatically. 

“Size 8s, Tony,” Pepper smiled, disconnecting the video feed.

So, that had gone well, Tony thought, turning back to his terminal. Rebirth, he repeated to himself, as he went back to his computer.  A few hours later, he’d managed to find one lone reference to a Project Rebirth, in a file related to gamma radiation exposure.  He decided to give it a rest for a bit and made his way up to the kitchen.  Steve’s ridiculous insistence on eating at regular intervals had apparently started growing on him. 

Which was when he saw the small duffel bag by the elevator. He stared at it for a moment, the implication of that one item pretty clear.  Some kind of burning weight settled low in his stomach.  Well, good fucking job there, Stark.  Congratulations.  You managed to run this one off in near record time.

Might as well get this over with, he thought resignedly as he walked to the kitchen, finding Steve at the counter preparing a sandwich.

 “Hey, Tony,” Steve said quietly in greeting.

“Hey, yourself,” Tony replied, not quite sure how to respond. Steve turned to face him and there really was no denying the tense but resolute look on his face.  And here it comes…

“I…” Steve started. “I wanted to thank you. Again.  For everything.”

And scene, Tony thought. Because this was it, really.

“But,” Steve continued. “I think…I think it would be best if I stayed at the halfway house the social worker at the hospital suggested.  I think…well, it’s time for me to figure something out on my own.  I mean, this has…you have been great.  Great.  Really.  But…I think I need to…find my own way.”

“Steve…if this is about last night…look, I goofed, okay? I…there is no expectation here.  This isn’t a quid pro quo thing.  You’re welcome here for as long as you…need,” Tony said, ducking his head to look down at the floor before forcing his eyes back to Steve.

“I…I don’t think…that. I mean, I know you wouldn’t…I just.  Tony,” Steve said his name like a sigh and Tony felt something painful twist in his chest.  He could practically see Steve regroup, as if he physically pulled himself together, the sum greater than the parts.  “I haven’t been fair to you.  You…you’re so…you have done so much for me.  I can never repay you.  But, as much as I…” Steve stumbled, trying to find the right words. _How do you politely tell someone its time to back the fuck off,_ Tony wondered.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Steve continued, which made no sense because that was the complete opposite of what had happened. “I’ve let you…take care of this because it was easier that way and you made it so easy to just let…that…happen.  But, that hasn’t been fair to you.  You…maybe you…think you…feel things.  For me.  But Tony, you don’t know me.  You don’t know who I am.  Hell, I don’t know who I am,” Steve said, frustration and anger mixing, making his voice raw. 

“I just know…this isn’t me. This person…this person you…have gotten to know. It isn’t me, Tony. There’s something missing.  Some part of me…and I don’t know what it is…I can’t….But, I know that whatever I am now…it isn’t who I was.  I don’t know what it is, but…there’s something missing from me and I…need to figure out what that is,” Steve finished bleakly, looking pleadingly at Tony.  “But, Tony…I don’t want you to think this is because of…of what happened last night.  In all of this…I’ve felt so lost.  Like I was supposed to be going somewhere, doing something, but had no direction, but then there was you and  you…I could just follow you, and it was so easy.  You’re like…this vortex, and I let myself do that, just fall in and…and that wasn’t fair to you.  I’m sorry for that.  For a lot of things, actually.”

“I can help you figure all of that out, if you’ll let me, Steve,” Tony replied. “I’m trying…I really am.  I just need more time.”  And there was begging and then there was begging, Tony thought. 

“I know, Tony. You…you’ve been such a huge help.  But…I think I need to figure this out on my own.  You…it’s so easy with you.  To just stay here and not…not worry, not care, but…that’s not real.  This isn’t my life.  That’s…this…I can’t.  I have to find out who I am.  What this thing is that I’m missing.  Its there.  I can almost see it, like a shadow out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn, it’s gone.  There’s something…I mean, my family and…I don’t know.  Something. And I can’t do that with you…here…you…I just can’t, Tony,” Steve choked out, mouth twisting as he did.  “This…this isn’t me, Tony.  I don’t know who I am, but I know that much.  What if…I’m a completely different person?  What if this isn’t…if I’m not…” Steve shook his head.  “You can’t know that I’m someone you…” he trailed off.

“You think there is some version of you I wouldn’t care about? Wouldn’t…Steve, there is no version of you that I don’t…that I wouldn’t care about,” Tony entreated helplessly, feeling Steve slip away like water through his fingers.

Steve’s eyes were hard as he looked at Tony. “You don’t know that.  I don’t know that.  I don’t know if this…if this is something…We just don’t know, Tony.  What if…I mean…there could be…What if I already…You…you said I was on my way to a date.  What if…”

And wasn’t that just a stab in the gut? Something in Tony broke at Steve’s words. Steve was leaving him, and not just leaving him, but looking for something else.  Something better.  Because Tony, well, Tony sure as hell wasn’t enough, that much was obvious.  So, by all means, let’s go find the nameless, faceless possible someone who has been ignoring you for the last two weeks, because, hell, even that is better than Tony.

 “Yeah, you do that, Steve.  You go find your…whatever.  Your something missing.  The something missing that hasn’t been looking for you for the past two weeks, that something?  The something that hasn’t filed single report, anywhere, Steve.  Anywhere.  I’ve looked.  The something who can’t even be bothered to make a FaceBook post about you? The one that can’t be bothered to call a hospital or two when you don’t show up.  You know, ever,” Tony asked bitterly, watching Steve’s shoulders slump and his whole face go ashen, wishing he could stop himself, could stop this vitriol spilling from his mouth, but everything was so raw, his feelings a sieve, and he knew  he was right about it and wrong to say it, but couldn’t make himself stop. 

“You’ve been missing for two weeks, Steve and whoever you think is waiting for you, they’ve done nothing. Nothing. If you were mine…If you were lost…so help me God, Steve, I would move heaven and Earth to find you, and I wouldn’t stop until I did, but you go ahead and go find whatever you think is missing,” Tony shouted across the room, sending the barstool banging into the counter as he stalked towards Steve. 

“This…that’s not…not everything is about you, Tony,” Steve ground out. “This is something I just have to do.”

Tony stared at him. “Go.  Just…just fucking go, Steve.”  _Don’t, please. Don’t leave me. I don’t mean this.  Don’t listen to me_. _Stay_.

Steve grabbed the duffel, hit the call button on the elevator and stepped in when the doors whooshed open and left without another word.

Tony stared around the empty space, a half-made peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the counter next to a glass of milk and that was just so fucking Steve that he couldn’t look at it and couldn’t put it away either, so he spun around on his heel and went back down to the workshop. He sat in front of his computer terminal for a few long moments, staring at the blank screen, determinedly not replaying the disastrous fight with Steve in his head.  He put his head in his hands for a moment, covering his eyes and taking two long, deep breaths before turning his attention back to the military files he’d hacked. 

Project Rebirth….He kept at it until he finally found another reference to it in old WW2 files related to something kind of recruiting effort through Camp Lehigh in New Jersey, and this time, there was a name associated with it. One that left him staring wide mouthed at the screen in front of him.

Howard Stark.

_The fuck?_

Howard had been involved with lots of military projects, sure, so it wasn’t hugely surprising in and of itself to find his name in classified files. Expected, if anything.  But how his dad’s work could possibly be connected to Steve…he couldn’t see it.  Howard died long before Steve would’ve been born, after all. 

His father had been involved somehow in something called Project Rebirth during World War 2. Project Rebirth was somehow connected to Steve, according his, well, his mysterious dry cleaning friend.  Who sucked at getting stains out, by the way.  He sat back in his chair for a moment, giving his mind time to clear.

The timing though…recruitment…Tony could see, suddenly like one of those pictures you had to squint your eyes out of focus just right to be able to make out the shape, see the pieces fall together. How many times had Tony sat at his father’s knee and listened to his Dad tell the same stories over and over about fighting alongside the great Captain America, flying him into enemy territory to drop him over a Hydra base, Cap coming back with the rescued men in tow…His Dad’s obsession with finding the man’s body had been the subject of many a late night shouting match between his parents, missed birthdays, science fairs, days ending in ‘y’, and later, empty bottles he filled up with disappointment in Tony.

Project Rebirth was the super-soldier program. The one that created Captain America.

S.H.I.E.L.D., the bunch of fucking lunatics, was trying to recreate the serum.  Because that always worked out so well. 

And they were using human subjects.

 _Steve_.


	11. Chapter 11

It wasn’t his problem anymore. Objectively, he knew that.  Steve had made that pretty clear, after all.  There was no reason not to just shrug his shoulders and walk away.  Grab a drink and work on the armors a bit. 

And yet…

He couldn’t let it go, this last filament of Steve still waving in the wind that he could grab onto, if only for a little bit longer. Part of it was the puzzle of it, sure.  He hated the not knowing, the feeling of being bested.  And some part of it, he was willing to concede, was a desire to show Steve that he had  been right, that if Steve had just given him a bit more time, he would’ve done this, would’ve figured this out, handed Steve his answers, his something missing, had Steve just waited. 

So, Tony continued searching the classified files as best he could. He finally conceded defeat sometime close to midnight.  Whatever else there was to find, it was on secure servers somewhere, probably inside S.H.I.E.L.D.  He couldn’t access those remotely, which while not surprising, was certainly frustrating to have the information dangled so tantalizingly close, yet inaccessible.  For the moment, anyway.  Thankfully, Stark Industries had several contracts with S.H.I.E.L.D. coming up for renewal that Pepper had…people…negotiating.  About time he took more of an active role in the company’s business, as it were. 

As excuses go, it was enough to get him in the door, which was really all he needed. A remote uplink placed somewhere within S.H.I.E.L.D. to allow JARVIS to access S.H.I.E.L.D.’s internal servers, and he’d have everything he needed about whatever it was that S.H.I.E.L.D. was up to.  Pepper would be so proud and totally not at all suspicious of his sudden desire to take a personal interest in SI’s contract negotiations.  He checked Stark Industries’ schedules and found that the next meeting at S.H.I.E.L.D. was set for four days from now, the day after the Tower was scheduled to come online.  He didn’t want to wait that long, but him showing up to begin with was probably suspicious enough as it was.

A part of him didn’t want to be right, of course. Still…S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to recreate the Captain America program…it wasn’t like he couldn’t see the reasoning.  But so far, all attempts to do so had been…well, let’s just go with ‘fraught with errors.’  Still, it would certainly explain a lot about Steve…the fighting skills, for one.  And there were other little things that he hadn’t really questioned at the time, but now…and it came so close, so close to fitting, to making sense.

 _It’s light_ , he’d said about the weight bar.  The way Steve could learn anything if you showed him once…But then…then there were other things that didn’t add up.  The snowy mountain ravine for one…some accident the military covered up?  Wouldn’t be the first time.  The cold, the dark….could be part of some kind of de-sensitization training, similar to what they used on prisoners at Gitmo. 

The red-skulled demon guy had to be some messed up figment of Steve’s imagination, but Tony found himself rather disturbed at what the implications of that could be. What had S.H.I.E.L.D. been up to that would lead Steve to replace whatever it was he’d gone through with something so horrific?  Tony knew from his own nightmares, remnant of Afghanistan, that the mind had a way of filtering a reality too terrifying to contemplate into something it could deal with, however irrational it may seem.

It all _could_ be explained.  It just didn’t seem to explain anything.  There were all of these pieces, but put together, none of them actually added up to Steve.  There was something at the fringes that he just couldn’t see yet.  Like a puzzle where a few key pieces were still missing.  He was self-aware enough to recognize that he was probably too close to this to really be able to look at things objectively.  What he needed was a break, some rest, some food…and some time not spent wondering where Steve was, if he was okay, whether he had a place to sleep, a good meal.  Steve was a grown man, and despite the memory loss, perfectly capable of taking care of himself.  He was pretty clear about his lack of interest in Tony’s help on that score. Once Tony had something...knew a bit more...maybe he could find Steve, talk to him...convince him to (come back) trust Tony again.

Giving up, at least for the night, he shut down the computer and headed out of the workshop, the lights automatically turning themselves off as he left. He trudged up the stairs through the living room as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a, well, post-midnight snack now.  He ran his hands through his hair, trying to jolt some energy into himself after a marathon hacking session.  He just needed to get a good night’s sleep.  Come at the problem in the morning, when his head was clearer.  Right now, it was a fuzzy mess of thoughts of S.H.I.E.L.D. doing God knows what to Steve. 

Which was why he was utterly unprepared for the sight of Steve sitting on his sofa. Tony came to an abrupt halt halfway through the living room, staring disbelievingly as Steve sat like some silent sentinel on his couch.

“Steve?” Tony murmured, still not trusting what his eyes were telling him.

“Hi, Tony. JARVIS let me in.  You seemed busy.  Before, I mean.  I didn’t want to bother you,” Steve replied evenly, as if that explained anything about why he was sitting here in Tony’s living room in the dark in the middle of the night after rabbiting out of here so many hours ago.

“I—yeah—I-what? Why are…what are you doing here?” Tony stuttered, still trying to catch his brain up to what his eyes were seeing.

“I don’t think I’m the kind of person that runs away,” Steve said, standing and walking towards where Tony stood rooted to the spot. “And that’s what I was doing.  I panicked.  I’m…that wasn’t well done of me.  I’m sorry, Tony.  You didn’t deserve that, after what you’ve done for me.”

“I—that—no, I was the one…I shouldn’t have ever said those things, Steve. I didn’t mean them, I swear.  I just…I didn’t---you were leaving,” Tony finished, realizing that he actually had no explanation that he wanted to give.  You were leaving, so I wanted to hurt you first, so that it would be because of that and not because of me just sounded pathetic, despite the ring of truth. 

“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. It isn’t like I haven’t thought about it.  Why no one has shown up, I mean,” Steve admitted, a raw harshness to his voice that didn’t sound like him. 

“Doesn’t mean I should’ve said it,” Tony insisted. “I’m sorry. For what its worth.”  If what he suspected about Steve was true, it was entirely possible that Steve was chosen for the…program…in part because there wouldn’t be any parents, siblings…spouses…coming to look for him if it went south.  Which just made Tony feel like an even bigger asshole. _Just had to test the limits on that one, didn’t I_ , he thought bitterly.

Steve nodded, accepting. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Tony corrected, but Steve was walking towards him and watching him so intently now that Tony couldn’t manage more.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Steve replied, stopping right in front of Tony, so close as to almost be in Tony’s space, which should be uncomfortable, really, but somehow wasn’t.

“Why did you come back?” Tony questioned softly, trying to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice.

Steve was quiet for a long minute before he started to answer, but he never lowered his gaze from Tony’s, and it was all Tony could do to hold onto it, to keep still, to stand here and not reach out. “I guess…I guess I’m tired of worrying about what I’m missing.  I’d like to think about what I have.  You said…” Steve started, taking a deep breath before continuing.  “You said there was no…version of me that you…wouldn’t care about?”

Tony could hear the question there. He thought about what he believed had happened to Steve…what S.H.I.E.L.D. had probably done to him.  He couldn’t be sure, not yet.  But if he was right…if he was right, then God only knew the lasting damage something like that could cause to Steve, both physical and psychological.  The list of doctors, psychiatrists, therapists, lawyers, officials....it was practically endless when you thought about what it would take to deal with the fallout from something like…whatever this was.  He didn’t even know what Steve might be now, how far the experiments might have gone, what they’d really done to him, whether he was dangerous, to himself or to others, whether whatever they’d done could be reversed, whether he’d ever get his memory back…so very many variables…

“There is absolutely no part of you that I wouldn’t care about…if you’d let me,” Tony said with quiet resolution. “None, Steve.  Nothing.  I swear it.“

Steve nodded slightly. “If there is some memory that I could get back that would make me not want to be here, I don’t want it.  Whatever it is…it’s not worth it,” Steve said, voice low, but sure and even. 

Tony might have groaned, he couldn’t be sure, he was just standing there stupidly one moment and the next was backing Steve up against the wall, pressing his lips apart and pushing his way in. After last time, he probably should’ve given the guy a warning, but after a moment of stiffness, he felt Steve’s body go slack, mouth pliant as Tony pushed his tongue inside, exploring the warm, wet heat.  And it was good, God, so good, Steve warm and solid under his hands as they pressed against his shoulders.  He heard himself moan when he felt the first tentative swipe of Steve’s tongue against his, and moved his hands up to card through Steve’s hair, titling his head for better access, wanting more, wanting to taste, to consume.  When he finally broke away, they were both panting, eyes glazed dark and wild. 

“Are you…is this okay?” Tony choked out, finding any breath to form words a bit difficult.

Steve just nodded, eyes never leaving Tony’s. Tony’s hands fell to Steve’s shoulders. “Are you sure…we don’t have to…” Tony panted. 

“I—it’s okay. It’s good.  I…just…I—I’m not sure…what I’m supposed to do,” Steve confessed, blushing to the roots of his hair. 

“Just…whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s fine. It’s all good, Steve.  You don’t…we don’t need to do anything.  I’m just…I’m glad you came back,” Tony responded, cupping Steve’s jaw with his hand.  He had to forcibly slow himself down here.  He had no idea what Steve’s life had been like, whether he had dealt with his sexuality or kept it a secret….if he’d been part of the military, even with the ridiculous don’t-ask-don’t-tell gone, it was still not exactly the friendliest institution when it came to this kind of thing. 

“That…uh, the kissing part? That was…good,” Steve admitted, sounding somewhat bewildered to Tony’s ears, but his jaw was firm and face lined with determination, despite the blush.  Tony couldn’t help a small, proud smile at that. Just because his life had been lived in the public eye didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of how much of a struggle all this could be.  He also wasn’t about to fail to take that for the invitation it was.  Tony leaned up to kiss Steve again, just lightly this time, tracing the edges of Steve’s mouth with his own.  As he did, he shifted his body closer, and there, yes, okay, Steve was definitely into it.  Thank fucking God.  Somewhat experimentally, he moved his leg between Steve’s at the same time he thrust his tongue in deep, earning a low, throaty groan from Steve that he was pretty sure Steve wasn’t aware he was making.  He moved his hands down over Steve’s chest, ghosting across his stomach and feeling the muscles bunch and tense beneath his hand. 

“This…can I?” Tony questioned, catching Steve’s shirt between his fingers and tugging ever so slightly to indicate his intent. Probably keeping the surprises at a minimum was the best plan here, considering he didn’t particularly care for the idea of having to stick the landing again should this go south. Steve managed to nod, and then startled as Tony’s fingers moved under his shirt to caress the hard planes of his stomach before splaying his hand wide over one of Steve’s hips, letting the tips of his fingers dip down below Steve’s waist, heard the sharp intake of breath from Steve and left them there, leaning back up to capture Steve’s bottom lip long enough to keep Steve from thinking too much.  He wasn’t a certified genius for nothing, as he felt Steve relax a bit, letting his body sink in closer to Tony’s, Steve’s arms slowly coming up to wrap around Tony and draw him in as Tony deepened the kiss, darting his tongue between Steve’s lips again, more insistently this time, winding against Steve’s, and when Steve hesitantly pressed his tongue into Tony’s mouth, just past his lips at first, but enough and not anywhere near enough and Tony was just gone, pushing Steve’s shirt up and breaking away long enough to get it over his head.  He took a moment to take in Steve’s flushed face, mussed hair, wide eyes, the ring of blue almost nonexistent now, lips red and swollen, mouth parted in expectation, and Tony thought he could be happy for the rest of his life if he got to keep Steve looking like that as much as possible.

“You---Tony?” Steve managed to stammer out, and for a moment, Tony had no idea what he was trying to convey, but then Steve was moving his hands over Tony’s shoulders and down his chest, so he caught up pretty quickly and started to lift up on the hem of his shirt before stopping himself.

“Steve…you know about Afghanistan and the suit…that…well, there’s something else…it…well, here,” Tony stammered, something uncharacteristically like shame settling in his gut for a moment. The reactor was…not the most attractive thing in the world, a deep, big cavity in his chest, metal and wires, scar tissue crackling out around it, taking up most of his chest. He lifted his shirt off anyway, because he was Tony Stark and he was Iron Man.  “It’s an arc reactor.  Like a…battery, sort of.  From the injury in Afghanistan.  There’s shrapnel lodged around my heart…this…keeps it from killing me.”

Steve jerked his eyes up to meet Tony’s, something fierce and primal there, before dropping his gaze back to the reactor. Tony felt uncomfortably on display for a moment before one of Steve’s big hands came up to hover over the reactor.  “Can I…is it okay to touch?  Will it…does it hurt you?”  Steve asked, his face, in the reactor’s blue light, an odd mix of desire, concern, curiosity and something that Tony refused to even try to name. 

For a moment, Tony’s mind flashed back to Obie, being paralyzed on the couch in Malibu as Obie removed the reactor, feeling helpless as he watched his life literally be stolen from him in front of his eyes. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Steve had put his trust in Tony, God help the man, and the least Tony could do was meet him halfway.  “It’s fine.  You…you can touch it.  Won’t hurt or anything,” Tony replied, voice carefully steady.  He forced himself to remain still as Steve’s large hand settled over the reactor, pressing ever so softly, muting the blue glow and casting Steve’s features in sharp relief.  Tony couldn’t help himself from reaching out to trace a line down the side of Steve’s face, running his fingers lightly under his jaw.  “It’s okay.  Really,” he assured him.  “Think of it like a fancy Duracell.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Steve replied softly, and Tony could hear the tiredness lining that admission. What must it be like to have so much swept away from you all at once?  He relied so much on his mind, his knowledge, his persona…to have that taken away…he didn’t know how Steve was coping as well as he was, let alone dealing with Tony’s bullshit on top of everything.  If he were less selfish, he’d probably send Steve to the Ritz and give him the name of a good shrink, since the idea of Tony actually helping to make this better somehow was probably the century’s biggest overreach.

And then Tony forgot whatever the fuck had been going through his mind because Steve was leaning down, pressing the side of his head over the reactor, arms coming around under Tony’s arms in an odd sort of hug, as Steve bent his head against Tony’s chest. Tony couldn’t help but recoil slightly, but there wasn’t anywhere to go, Steve’s arms as implacable as any restraint.  He had no idea what Steve was doing, but it was gentle and after the instant, unconscious schism of fear of anyone being that near the reactor, it was…strangely comforting.  Tony found himself, somewhat to his own surprise, wrapping his arms behind Steve’s head and pulling him closer, tighter against him.

“I can hear it humming,” Steve murmured softly, his hands moving in slow, short strokes up and down Tony’s back, as if soothing him. Tony closed his eyes, a flash of pain across his features that he was glad Steve couldn’t see.

Because that wasn’t possible.

Not for someone with regular human hearing, anyway. He hugged Steve tighter, wrapping one arm down his back and allowing one to brush over the back of his head, stroking gently as he went. 

“It’s late,” Tony observed flatly. “We should…we should get to bed.  To sleep, I mean,” he corrected quickly, as Steve pulled back to stand straight again, gazing down at him in obvious question.  But Tony was determined to persevere.  If Tony had believed in that sort of thing, he would be sure there were a host of martyred saints  looking down and going, “Damn man, that’s hardcore,” because now Steve was ducking his head slightly, biting his lip and generally looking rather disappointed. _Dear Lord, Rogers, you’re killing me here_ , Tony thought, chagrined.

He couldn’t let things go much further with Steve until he had enough confirmation of his suspicions about S.H.I.E.L.D. to tell Steve. And once he did have that confirmation, he needed time to line up as many of the best doctors, psychologists, researchers and whomever else Steve might need that he could to help figure out how best to deal with…something like this.  Find out from them the best way to break it to Steve.  Then.  Then he could sit Steve down and tell him what had happened to him, help him to rebuild where it could be rebuilt, offer something new to fill the void when it couldn’t.

And then he could rip S.H.I.E.L.D. apart piece by piece by piece.

So, a plan.


	12. Chapter 12

So, a plan. Figure out what had been done to Steve. Take down those who did it.  Tell Steve.  Help Steve. Keep Steve in bed for a few weeks.  For his health.  Of course. 

But part of that plan was keeping his hands to himself, which was damn difficult when Steve was looking down at him all uncertain and bashful-like and Tony just wanted to…well, wanted to do a lot of things. He sighed and started mentally reciting Pi. 

“I—I haven’t touched your room. I mean, if you want.  It’s there.  So…” Tony offered, looking over his shoulder as if Steve didn’t already know where his room was, but mainly to give him a moment to gather himself if Steve decided to take him up on that suggestion.  When he turned back, Steve hadn’t moved and was just looking down at him with that weirdly sure gaze that Tony only rarely managed to accomplish around Steve.

“I didn’t come back here for a room,” Steve whispered, eyes never leaving Tony’s, managing to take whatever remained of Tony’s breath away. He shouldn’t make Steve always be the brave one, always the one to step out on the ledge first, looking back for Tony to follow him. 

“Okay, okay, that’s…fine. That’s fine.  Not fine. I mean, it is, but it’s great.  That’s great.  I have a room,” Tony volunteered needlessly, squelching his eyes together and trying to force himself to stop thinking about Steve in his room long enough to, you know, actually get Steve into his room. _Jesus fucking Christ, pull yourself together, man_.

“I know that, Tony,” Steve replied, a small smile tugging at his lips, so Tony thanked whatever deities he could think of that Steve apparently found the inability to form actual sentences charming. “I—I’d like that.  That is, if you…”

“Yeah,” Tony interrupted. “Yeah, I. Yeah, I would…that would be good.”  Which is how Tony ended up with a passed out possible-super-soldier sprawled across his bed a half hour later.  And it was Steve he was comforting by running his hand gently through his hair as he tapped away on his tablet with the other. Really. 

Mostly. Well, some.

Tony finally clicked off the tablet, leaving only the glow of the reactor to illuminate the room. He sidled up next to Steve, who, God he was warm, and finally managed to doze off.  Much to his surprise, he slept through the night, a rare feat, particularly after Afghanistan.   He rolled over and blinked at the empty expanse of bed, then sat up quickly, legs already moving off the bed when he saw the note folded on the bedside table.  He picked it up and opened it, expelling a sharp, relieved bark of laughter at the cartoon of him snoring a string of “Z’s” above his head.  Steve’s neat writing indicated he’d gone to the gym, and Tony felt the panic that had welled up inside him start to recede.  Really, cute cartoons or not, his heart could only take so much.  Wide awake now, he dragged himself out of bed, took a quick (cold-for obvious reasons) shower and dressed in black tank and jeans before padding down to the kitchen for coffee. 

He was on his second cup, idly scrolling through the news headlines when JARVIS interrupted.

“Sir?” JARVIS called.

“Yeah, J, what’s up?” Tony asked without looking up.

“I suggest you make your way to the pool, Sir,” JARVIS suggested, an odd tone in his automated voice.

“You know I don’t swim these days, JARVIS,” Tony corrected. And then was bounding off the kitchen stool heading for the pool at a run because, of course, JARVIS did know that, and there was really only one other person that would be using the pool.  The doors to the pool room banged off the walls as he rushed through them, then skidded to an abrupt halt, finally breathing out in a long rush of air. 

Steve was standing against the tile wall opposite the pool, just fine, thank God. Except…except no, that wasn’t quite true.  He was pressed back against the tile, as if it would maybe absorb him if he just pushed hard enough, staring blankly at the pool, face pale and his whole body tensed.  Tony had enough experience with panic attacks to recognize a fight-or-flight stance when he saw one. 

Cautiously, he approached Steve, who continued to stare at the pool’s rippling water. He stayed far enough to be out of arm’s reach. At least, he hoped. “Steve?” Tony called.  “Steve?  You with me?”  He got no response or indication that Steve had heard him. 

On a hunch, Tony changed tact. “Eyes to me, soldier!” he barked, in what he hoped was a pretty decent imitation of a drill sergeant. It sounded rather like his father, he thought. Steve’s eyes snapped to his instantly, and Tony didn’t want to think much about what that suggested. 

“Tony?” Steve asked, as if seeing him for the first time. He saw a slight tremor rush through Steve, causing his fists to clench spasmodically. 

“You okay there?” Tony asked, reaching out gingerly to lay a light hand on Steve’s shoulder. To his relief, Steve blinked rather blearily at Tony, but at least there was recognition there. 

“I—the water. I…was going to swim.  To cool off,” Steve began, and Tony finally noticed that Steve was in swimming trunks, skin still slightly damp.  “After I finished at the gym.  And then…I started to get in and the water…” he choked off. 

Tony hated himself a bit, but had little choice at this point. “What about the water, Steve?” he pressed.  He had a good idea, after all.  He knew special forces soldiers were trained to withstand certain possible tortures they could face if captured.  Being submersed in water…well, Tony had his own issues with that one.  He steadfastly refused to think about someone doing that to Steve.  Instead, his mind flashed to Gulmira.  He also refused to think much about why his brain was connecting those things for him. 

“It just…I couldn’t…It was getting deeper and I—“ Steve broke off, but his hands were fisting reflexively, back pressed flush against the wall. Tony was pretty sure if he could, Steve would climb right through the wall, and no sooner had the thought run through his head than the tiles behind Steve started to pop and crack. Tony wisely decided that was probably enough questioning.

“Okay, okay. Well, you’re not in the water anymore, okay, Steve?  You’re out.  You’re fine.  Hey, look at me,” Tony instructed, and Steve tore his gaze from the pool.  “No pool.  No water.  Just me, okay.  Can you focus on me?” Tony requested.

Steve blinked a moment and then nodded.

“I’m going to kiss you now. Just so you know,” Tony warned, giving Steve a moment to catch up before leaning up to run his lips over Steve’s mouth. At first, Steve remained as he was, unresponsive and unable to move from the wall.  Slowly, Tony felt some of the tension start to drain from Steve’s body.  He kept placing light kisses along Steve’s mouth and down to his jaw, then laving his mouth over the cords on Steve’s throat which finally, finally earned a sharp intake of breath and shift of stance from Steve.  Small things, but he counted himself lucky.  Tony moved back up to capture Steve’s mouth again, and this time, it opened beneath his, letting him swipe his tongue delicately between Steve’s lips before darting inside.  He’d kept his hands from Steve out of concern over how he would react, but as soon as he felt Steve’s shoulders slump forward, the tension relieved, he reached up to place them on either side of Steve’s face, cradling his head in his hands. 

“Hey. Steve.  You’re okay.  I’m here.  Just look at me.  Just me, okay.  Nothing else.  Just look at me.  I got you,” Tony repeated. 

“Tony…I—I think I’m okay. I don’t know…what happened.  But, I’m okay now,” Steve assured him.  At least his face had lost that odd blank look.  That had been unnerving, to say the least. 

“It’s called a panic attack. Trust me, I’m very familiar with them,” Tony disclosed softly.  “Afghanistan,” he replied in answer to Steve’s silent question.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to worry you…I just…couldn’t…I couldn’t move,” Steve muttered. “I couldn’t move.”

A part of Tony wanted to say that sometimes they hold you down under the water. That he understood.  That he might not be able to help, exactly, but he could listen and actually get it.  But he didn’t say any of those things because they weren’t there yet.  He needed more information before giving Steve a list of possible traumas he might have suffered.  Not exactly something you want to guess at. 

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s…it’s…a reaction to some kind of trauma.  Unfortunately, with you, we don’t know what yet, but we’ll find out.  That I can promise,” Tony said, thinking about the next three days until he could get into S.H.I.E.L.D. and find out what the hell was going on once and for all. 

“Not sure I want to know,” Steve responded dully, eyes drifting back to the pool.

“Hey, me,” Tony ordered again, and Steve dragged his eyes back to Tony again. “Look…what do you say to getting out of here?”

“I—sure. Sure, that sounds good,” Steve replied.  “What did you have in mind?”

What Tony had in mind turned out to be rather inspired, if he did say so himself. He’d found Steve watching a baseball game last week and, at the time, had a fleeting thought that they should take in a game.  Now, that seemed like a stroke of genius. Which made sense. Given that was an actual genius.  He and Steve were sitting along the third baseline behind the dugout.  Steve was eating…well, everything…and Tony was grinning madly watching him enjoy the game.  He didn’t even seem disappointed when the Yankees lost 9-3. 

“That was…oddly satisfying,” Steve declared as they left the stadium to head back to Tony’s car. Tony had insisted, after Pepper reminded him, sure, but he’d still been the one doing the actual insisting that Happy take a much-needed vacation.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Tony smiled.

“I did,” Steve grinned in return. Tony decided to buy a box at the stadium. 

It was getting late by the time they made it back to the Tower. Tony wasn’t hungry, but Steve was, so he ordered some Thai food, watching Steve eat everything short of the containers with rueful amazement. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Steve asked, sprawling back on the sofa.

“Got a better idea,” Tony informed him. Steve just raised an eyebrow in question.  “How do you feel about flying?”

Ten minutes later, Tony was in the armor, faceplate still up as he adjusted his grip on Steve. “I’ll go slow, stay low.  Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Tony promised. 

“I’m not worried,” Steve responded, and he honestly didn’t sound like he was. As soon as the suggestion had left his mouth, Tony had wanted to take it back. This was clearly nuts.  He had been showing off, he knew that.  Not that he couldn’t do it…and Steve had been all over the idea though, practically bouncing with excitement. 

“You’ve never seen the city like this, I promise,” Tony vowed, taking off at a slow lift. Steve gripped the armor hard, balanced in what should’ve been an awkward position on the armor’s feet, but didn’t seem to faze Steve much.  Tony locked an arm around Steve’s waist and rose higher, turning so Steve could look down as they left the Tower’s platform.  Tony wasn’t sure what to expect.  He’d imagined taking Steve slowly up for a quick peek at the City and then back down to solid ground.

Steve whooping with joy the faster they went through the maze of buildings was not exactly what he’d planned on. Sure, Tony had been showing off with the whole idea in the first place, but now…well, now he really got to show off, a willing Steve in his arms, flashing through midtown and around the Statue of Liberty, under the Brooklyn Bridge and circling the Empire State Building before making his leisurely over Central Park, startling a couple of carriage horses.  When they finally arrived back at the Tower, Steve’s face was split into a huge grin, all kinds of exclamations pouring from his lips as he was fairly giddy with excitement.  Tony flipped up the faceplate and promptly shut him up with a kiss.  In the armor, like this, he was taller and stronger by far, so it was easy enough to press Steve back against the wall and take his time ravaging his mouth. 

Except that he suddenly found himself twisted around and shoved against the wall, armor and all, while Steve kissed him back quite thoroughly, seeming unaware of the import of what he’d just done, and crap, that…that should not have been possible. The armor weighed…five hundred pounds?  Plus his weight… _Ah, fuck it, I’ll deal with it later_ , he thought, letting Steve take the lead and plunder his mouth as long as he wanted.  When he finally surfaced for air, Tony patted Steve’s shoulder, with a soft, “Whoa there, give me a minute.”

“Sorry,” Steve frowned, stepping back in confusion.

“What? No. No. Do not. Do not apologize.  Do not.  I just…give me a second with the armor, then by all means, please feel free to continue,” Tony smiled, as the armor peeled off and he stepped out.  “No, no, more kissing,” Tony insisted with a cocky grin, pulling Steve back into his arms when he didn’t move fast enough, causing Steve to huff out a laugh at Tony’s impatience.  It occurred to Tony in that moment that the something he was feeling, the thing that tightened his chest when Steve walked in a room, that made him smile to see Steve smile, that made him want to comfort Steve, to alternatively hide him away and show him the world he’d forgotten…it might be something more than some combination of happiness kindled by desire. 

That thought should terrify him, leave him paralyzed or ducking for the nearest cover. It didn’t do any of those things though.  Ten years ago, he’d have thrown some money at Steve in the hospital and let his lawyers worry about it.  Or thrown some money at Steve and then propositioned him. Whatever. Now…now, it was like everything made sense, finally, everything he’d gone through, everything he’d lost, how much all of that had changed him, it had all led to this moment in time, where he could actually be the person who got to have this one good thing.  Got to finally be worthy of it.  

“Penny?’ Steve offered.

“Huh?” Tony asked eloquently, head still swimming with the idea of what it might mean that he wanted this…this exact thing…and was actually getting it.

“For your thoughts…” Steve trailed off, noting Tony’s lack of response.

Tony laughed. “They’re worth a lot more than that,” Tony said.  “I was just thinking…that it was a good day.”

“It was. The best,” Steve agreed readily.  “Well, at least the best I can think of,” he said dryly, making Tony choke out a surprised laugh.

“Amnesia humor? Too soon, Steve, too soon,” Tony admonished lightly, wrapping his hand on the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him down again for another kiss.  Tony figured he was going to end up with blue balls for sure, but it was going to be worth it.

When Tony woke the next morning, he was sprawled across Steve’s chest, face planted firmly in the crook of Steve’s neck with what he was fairly sure was a puddle of drool threatening to spill onto Steve’s shoulder. This whole waking up with someone thing was new.  And different.  And surprisingly nice.  He had a strong suspicion it was just because it was Steve, since he usually hated to actually sleep with his dates.  As opposed to euphemistically sleep with them, that is. 

Steve was all warm and solid and slept like the dead, quiet and virtually unmoving from whatever position he was in when he fell asleep, seemingly totally unaffected by Tony writhing around like a drunken octopus, as one of his former lovers had put it. That let Tony’s thoughts wander to delicious ways to wake him up.  Steve also had the rather useful ability to come awake to total wakefulness in a matter of split seconds, which might be in the top five amazing things he could do, in Tony’s opinion, considering Tony thought of waking up as more of a process than an action.  He placed a kiss to Steve’s collarbone, watched Steve’s eyes snap open and find Tony’s, and started working his way across Steve’s chest to give the same treatment to the other side. 

“Hafta go ta’ work,” Steve mumbled in what Tony was almost sure was a sleep-addled Brooklyn accent. Tony was going to remember to record it one of these days.  For study.

“No you don’t,” Tony corrected. But that didn’t last long at all, damn Steve’s stupid sense of personal responsibility.  Hell, it was Tony’s duties he was trying to get Steve to shirk, you’d think he could be reasonable about it, but no.  So, Steve worked on the final little details that needed to be completed on the Tower. Tony brooded over coffee, then went to the workshop to put in some time on a couple of SI projects he’d been neglecting since…well, for a time that happened through sheer coincidence to coincide with Steve’s arrival. 

Steve joined him for lunch, and hey, lunch! Lunch was great.  Why had he never realized how much he liked lunch?  Steve seemed to think that coffee was not an acceptable food group, but other than that, it was nice to have (Steve) company.  He finally did get to take Steve to the symphony that night, which he seemed to enjoy, but then they found themselves diving into some hole in the wall jazz club on their way back to the Tower and Tony spent a good part of the night drinking, laughing and trying to teach Steve some dance steps that he was probably too drunk to accomplish, let alone teach anyone, though he apparently entertained the entire place and bought everyone drinks.  He called it a win if for no other reason than he was pretty sure Steve half-carried him back to the Tower and he got an excuse to climb all over the guy for a semi-legitimate reason. 

When he woke the next morning, he found he had once again apparently spent his night trying to burrow as close to Steve as possible. His first thought upon waking up enough to slowly dislodge various body parts from where he’d entwined himself into Steve’s massive limbs was that tomorrow, he’d be able to get into S.H.I.E.L.D. and finally find some answers about what they’d done to Steve.  His second thought was that, oh, yeah, he was plugging the Tower in to the arc reactor tonight.  You know, that clean energy project he’d been pursuing for a couple of years now. That.  He sighed heavily, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.  Pepper was going to burn him in effigy if he messed whole thing with the Tower up.  She’d already gotten the publicity done, readied the press releases and a thousand other things that she handled so he didn’t have to know they existed. 

“No work today, big guy,” Tony said, poking Steve’s side where the t-shirt he’d slept in had ridden up, revealing an expanse of golden skin and jut of hipbone that really was testing Tony’s resolve, never all that solid to begin with. “Tower’s done.  I take it off the power grid and hook it up to the new arc reactor tonight.  So no more…rearranging the florals or whatever you’ve been doing.”

“How you know me,” Steve deadpanned. “This is a big day…don’t you have something you need to be doing?  With the company, I mean?”

Yeah, he probably did. “Nah, Pepper’s got it handled.  She’ll probably be happier if I stay out of the way,” Tony responded, reaching to grab his tablet and have JARVIS order a few pairs from Pepper’s List of Apology Choos (yes, he’d named it). 

“You sure?” Steve questioned.

Nope. “Positive,” Tony said. Steve got up to take a shower, which did nothing to help with Tony’s morning erection.  He started doing differential equations in his head. 

Tony had quickly found that long showers were one of the few indulgences Steve regularly allowed himself. While Steve was turning himself into a human prune, Tony called Pepper to take his lumps.

“You’re not leaving the Tower,” Pepper repeated his words back to him. “On the day we are creating the first self-sustaining clean energy project on the planet.  The one you’ve been working on since you took Stark Industries out of the very lucrative weapons business on the assurance that clean energy could be delivered easily and profitably.”

“Um…right. That,” Tony said, face scrunching and eyebrows raising entreatingly. 

“You slept with him, didn’t you?” Pepper accused. “Tony, for the love of God—“

“No! No.  I did not.  I resent that, Pepper.  I’m hurt,” Tony responded, then looked up abruptly and with what he was certain was a bug-eyed look as Steve came out of the bathroom clad in only a white towel wrapped around his waist.  Tony was throwing out all his towels and buying some nice, fluffy washcloths. 

“Oh—sorry, sorry, Ms. Potts, I—um—I’ll just go…anywhere but here,” Steve said, dashing back into the bathroom.

Tony forced his gaze back to the tablet screen and Pepper’s pinched face.

“Tony! You swore…” Pepper began.

“I did not sleep with him. I mean, I did. But not like that,” Tony protested, rather ineffectively, by the look on Pepper’s face.  

“Excuse me?” Pepper hissed

“We…he slept here. With me.  But that was it.  Hand to God, Pepper, the unicorns will still come right to him,” Tony professed.

Pepper paused, eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “Let me get this straight.  You…slept with him, but didn’t “sleep” with him.  What did…Tony.  Tony, did you…cuddle?”

“What? No.  No, I did not cuddle Steve.  Don’t be…that’s ridiculous.  That would be…” _fantastic_ “crazy, I mean, I’m me.  I don’t cuddle.  Really, Pepper,” Tony sputtered.

Pepper couldn’t keep the smile from spreading. “Oh. My. God.  You did.  Tony Stark, the great lothario, has been spending his nights cuddling.  Well.  In that case, I’ll leave you to it.”

“You will?” Tony squeaked in surprise.

“Oh yes. Most definitely.  You go right ahead, Tony,” Pepper replied in amusement.  Then her expression softened.  “I’m happy for you, Tony.  Really.  I didn’t realize you were in—“

“Hey now, we don’t use that kind of language in the Tower, Pepper,” Tony interrupted, scrunching his face.

“I’ll handle the Tower stuff. I need to go wider on the public awareness campaign, work on the billboards…you just get the damn thing online tonight, okay?” Pepper told him.

“You know, all this came from you,” Tony told her.

“All this came from that,” Pepper said, indicating the arc reactor glowing under Tony’s tank.

“Give yourself some credit, please. Stark Tower is your baby. Give yourself…twelve percent of the credit,” Tony offered.

“Twelve percent?” Pepper questioned.

“An argument can be made for fifteen,” Tony admitted. “I’m going to pay for that comment about percentages in some subtle way later, aren’t I?” Tony said.

“Not going to be that subtle,” Pepper responded. “Go back to cuddling, Tony,” Pepper replied, twisting her mouth to keep from smiling as she hung up.

Tony had a huge breakfast delivered because he was irrationally fond of watching Steve eat. Steve insisted on working out, and Tony had no problem watching that happen.  Tony felt his heartrate stayed elevated long enough to consider it a cardio workout, anyway. 

“Hey, try hitting this,” Tony said, indicating the punching bag. Steve shrugged and dutifully hit it, sending it swinging.  Tony paused a moment, a sliver of something like anticipation and something like fear running through him, that feeling you get right before the coaster goes over the first hill.  “Now…try putting everything you’ve got into it.”

Which was how Tony lost a perfectly good punching bag.

“Huh,” Steve said, staring bemusedly down at the destroyed bag before looking up at Tony. “Did you…did you know that would happen?”

“Defective bag,” Tony lied. _Fuck_.  Not like he really needed more proof at this point, what with the shoving around of the armor, not that Tony was complaining about that because…well.  Anyway, he forced his mind back to the small matter at hand, namely that there was going to be a very long conversation in their future.  For the first time, Tony let himself think about what it might be like if it wasn’t all…completely awful.  What if Steve couldn’t be cured, but was okay with…everything?  Clearly there had been some kind of trauma, but Tony knew well enough that you could live with the aftermath, however unpleasant.  What if…what if it turned out that…a relationship…with someone who could take care of themselves wasn’t a bad thing, all in all?  Given Tony’s line of work and the effect it tended to have on those he…cared about…and all.  Maybe this didn’t have to be a curse, something Steve, and by extension Tony, had to bear.  Maybe it could be something…good. Objectively, this was probably a very selfish line of thinking.

Plus, he really wanted to see if Steve could bend a metal bar with his hands. Because that would be just neat. 

They spent the rest of the day watching movies. Tony decided The Manchurian Candidate was probably too on the nose and went with The Matrix instead, which Steve loved, but had no memory of ever seeing. Tony worked a bit on the armors while Steve sketched.  When Tony asked to see, Steve just blushed and ducked his head, saying it wasn’t ready, which meant Tony was definitely going to be taking a peek at that. 

Tonight was special, as much as the Tower had taken a backseat to all things Steve lately. It was the culmination of years of planning, and, in a way, a testament that the company could be competitive without the weapons Tony refused to make.  And it was just the beginning.  It wasn’t the beginning occupying Tony’s thoughts most of the day, but still.  It wasn’t like he didn’t want to recognize the moment.  He had JARVIS arrange a dinner from one of the finest restaurants in New York to be catered at the Tower for he and Steve, complete with the fine china, white tablecloth and sterling he rarely used.  They ended up crashed on the sofa watching Firefly and arguing over the popcorn. 

Finally, Tony donned the suit and headed into the air, watching Steve get smaller and smaller on the Tower platform as he drifted away. Because he was a giant coward of a superhero, he called Steve on the HUD from a few blocks away.

“Miss me?” Tony asked cheekily as he flew.

“I think I can still see you,” Steve replied drolly. “Nope, that was a lamppost.”

“Ha-ha,” Tony said, grinning. “So, um, there’s a thing.  For you.  Just a—it isn’t anything big.  Just a…a Tower Day thing, you know.  Mark the moment.”

“You didn’t need to get me anything. It’s your day, Tony.  I-ah-I have something for you, too.  Nothing much, but…well.  I’ll show you when you get back,” Steve told him, sounding slightly embarrassed. 

“Can’t wait,” Tony told him, and he actually meant it. He wanted nothing more than to get this done and get back to the Tower and Steve.  “There’s champagne. We’ll have a toast to my awesomeness and then you can show me what it is.”

“Want me to wait until you get back to open the one from you?” Steve asked.

“Nah, go ahead,” Tony said, definitely not wanting to be there. Just in case it turned out to be…less than awesome (completely stupid).  He did have JARVIS recording it though.  “Its…there’s a small box there on the table.  It…well, you said something that night…um, before you left,” Tony began, finding his throat inexplicably tight.  “About feeling lost.  I—well, I thought of this.  It was actually my Dad’s.  From the war.  Some friend of his gave it to him for some favor he did him or something, I don’t know.  It doesn’t even work right anymore, hasn’t for years, but he always kept the thing…I don’t know, I just thought…well, Happy Tower Day!” Tony finished lamely, scrunching his face in embarrassment that no one but JARVIS could see and finding himself scrambling to say anything that wasn’t ‘hey, it’s not a ring, don’t panic!’  And where do thoughts like that even come from? _Shut. Up. Subconscious_.

“You shouldn’t give me something that was your Dad’s, Tony. You should keep that kind of thing,” Steve responded. 

“It’s no big deal, really. Everyone had them back in the war, I guess.  And, well.  Me and Dad weren’t exactly the closest…And it’s mine now, and I want you to have it, so…” Tony explained, trying to keep the note of pleading out of his voice, but probably not totally succeeding.

Steve was quiet for a moment. “Thank you, Tony.  That…that means a lot.  I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said softly.  “Go turn on your Tower and get home.”

“Yes, sir!” Tony chortled, turning towards the port and open ocean where the arc reactor power line waited to be connected to the underwater powerline serving the Tower. “Catch you on the flip side,” Tony said, disconnecting.  Steeling himself against the water closing over him, he dove under and completed the hook-up.

“Alright, JARVIS, we’re good on this end. The rest is up to you,” Tony said, smiling as he shot out of the water to head back to the Tower.

“The Tower is now off the grid, Sir,” JARVIS informed him.

“Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy, JARVIS. Light her up,” Tony instructed.  In the distance, he could see the lights of the Tower power back up, served now by the arc reactor instead of New York’s finest power company.  “It’s like Christmas, but with more…me,” Tony said gleefully, landing hard on the platform and letting the gauntlet remove the pieces of the suit, as he bounded in to find Steve.  He was a little…anxious about the gift thing.  He knew he could come on strong, overreaching if he wasn’t careful.  And he wanted to be so very careful with Steve.  Not that Steve seemed to mind, exactly.  He just kind of rolled with it, and then proceeded to do whatever he wanted anyway.  Tony rather liked that Steve didn’t let Tony run roughshod over him.  At all.  Ever.  Not that he’d ever say that to Steve…

Tony walked into the living room and saw the sketch paper turned over on the coffee table. Glancing guiltily around, he couldn’t resist a peek.  He wanted to prepare himself with his best effort at sincere thanks, just in case Steve had gone all painter-of-light on him.  He lifted the corner of the sketch and found himself looking at a sketch of himself, sitting at his workstation, an armored gauntlet in one hand, precision blowtorch in the other, his hair sticking up all over the place, arc reactor glowing through a black tank, looking back over his shoulder with a smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling.  He stared at it for a long moment.  Was this…was this what he looked like?  He looked…well, he hardly recognized what it was so clearly showing in his expression.  It had been so long, he’d forgotten what his face looked like without lines of tension, eyes haunted by worry, shoulders bowed with the weight of the world.  He looked…happy.  Relaxed.  Light.  Was this how Steve saw him or was it just how he looked around Steve?  Maybe those were the same answer.  He rubbed at his eyes.  Damn dust.  He needed better housekeeping.  He carefully put it back in the same position on the table, so Steve would be able to gift it to him in a few minutes. 

“Steve?” Tony called out, looking around the empty living room, then checking the kitchen. “Party time, Steve!  Let’s go.”  He looked down at the dining table, still littered with the leftovers of their dinner, smiling a bit at the memory of Steve trying to use the tiny shrimp fork.  Adorable.

“JARVIS, where’d Steve get off to?” Tony questioned, grabbing the champagne bottle from the stand and opening it with a loud pop, ignoring it as it fizzed over onto the floor.

“Mr. Rogers left the building approximately six minutes ago,” JARVIS told him.

“Excuse me?” Tony asked sharply, turning around to look at the empty room again as if Steve would be there to make a liar out of JARVIS. “Did he say where he was going?”

“No, Sir, he did not. If you like, I can replay the video from shortly before he left,” JARVIS offered.

“Yeah…uh, sure,” Tony said, disconcerted. Maybe Steve had gone to the store?  Tony glanced around and saw his present for Steve sitting on the table next to the box and coil of ribbon.  God, if he’d made him feel bad about the whole present thing, he was going to throw the damn thing off the roof. 

Tony looked up at the screen to see Steve put the phone down, shaking his head with a smile. He watched as Steve walked over to the table and picked up the small box and undo the red and gold ribbons.  He opened the box and took out what was nestled inside, turned it over in his hand once, then flipped the cover open.  He stared at it for, and Tony would measure it later, eighty-six seconds, a spasm of something contorting his features for a split second, before he placed it carefully down on the table and backed away.  On the screen, Tony watched as Steve ran a hand over his face, cradling his forehead for a moment before running it through his hair, leaving it in disarray.  Then he simply went to the elevator, got in and apparently, left the building. 

Okay. Well, that was odd. 

“Any idea where he went, J?” Tony asked, a line of worry tracing its way through his spine.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I was transitioning the power grid and rebooting the Tower systems and did not monitor Mr. Rogers’ whereabouts.  My apologies if this was an incorrect protocol,” JARVIS said.

“No, no…it’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine.  He’ll be back.  I--I’m just…” Tony stared at Steve’s phone sitting buried in the sofa cushion from when they’d had their Firefly marathon earlier.  Steve had loved the phone once Tony showed him how it worked, spending almost as much time on it as he did sketching.

Tony walked over to the table and picked up the gift he’d left for Steve. Okay, it was lame.  Obviously.  Damn.  He’d thought…well, didn’t matter what he’d thought.  It had obviously gone over like a lead balloon.  “Doesn’t mean you just up and run out, Steve,” Tony said, voice low, because he knew, of course he knew, that he was missing something.  Steve wouldn’t just leave in some huff over a silly gift.  Maybe he was going to pick something up for the celebration?  Hoping to surprise Tony…He turned the gift over in his hand, noting the engraving on the back, worn down from years of being carried around in his Dad’s jacket pocket. 

‘ _H—Thanks for the lift_ ,’ the engraving on the back of the compass read. 

“Sir, I regret to inform you that my security protocols appear to have been overridden. Director Fury and Agent Coulson are on their way up the elevator,” JARVIS stated. 

“Are they, now? Well…by all means, let’s greet our _guests_ ,” Tony ground out.  “Meantime, sweep the city camera feeds and see if you can find Steve, would you?  Keep it on my private server, J.  If they’re overriding the Tower protocols, we need to keep this a bit closer to the vest,” Tony ordered.  “The moment you find him, send an alert to my phone using the secure line.  And get the suit ready to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so getting there! Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and kudo-ing. The encouragement is definitely appreciated. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

The elevator doors pinged open and Fury swept into the living room.  He said swept because Fury rarely seemed to just walk anywhere.  He was a bit of a drama queen, in Tony's opinion. Agent Agent followed dutifully behind, carrying a briefcase. Fury sat down heavily on the sofa, Coulson standing behind it, both looking at Tony where he stood by the bar.  If Fury was looking to trade information, or, possibly, some kind of cure for Steve’s…condition…well, Tony knew what Fury would want to get his hands on in that kind of transaction.  Tony was somewhat disturbed at how undisturbed he was at the prospect of turning over some of the Iron Man armor in return for something to help Steve.  Didn’t mean he had to offer it up on a silver platter though.  Best to ease into this, guard what he knew very carefully.  Let Fury take the initiative.  Make S.H.I.E.L.D. cough up their hand first.

“What the holy hell did you assholes do to Steve?” Tony demanded. So, yeah, subtlety was out, apparently. 

“And you wonder why we don’t let you play with the nice toys, Stark,” Fury observed, looking around the living room and generally ignoring Tony’s question. “Where is Captain Rogers?”

“So he is military,” Tony confirmed.

Fury just stared at him with his one good eye. “I seem to recall that it was you that knocked him through a wall and left him without his memories.  We,” Nick drew the word out, “didn’t do anything to Captain Rogers.”  Coulson made a small sound in his throat.  “Well, maybe we didn’t handle things regarding his…recovery…in the best possible way,”  Fury conceded, “but we were dealing with unprecedented circumstances.  You, on the other hand, just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“Unprecedented?   Bullshit.  You were trying to recreate the super-soldier serum, using human test subjects as your personal lab monkeys. Because that’s worked out so well in the past,” Tony growled out.  “You experiment on him and then abandon him to the wolves.  What if it had been someone else who picked him up?  And given that you were using people, American soldiers no less, as your personal science projects, just where the fuck do you get off—“

“Stark!” Fury barked out. “You’re not listening.  And I need you to listen.  This once,” Fury insisted.  “Look, it isn’t like we pushed him in front of your car,” Fury continued, spreading his hands in a transparent attempt at contrition.  “No one anticipated…any of this, quite frankly.  But…we were content to allow Captain Rogers to recuperate under your care.  There were…some…who felt that we had…perhaps…initially botched things with Captain Rogers’ recovery…to his detriment, and it was…strongly suggested that we should allow things to run their course here.  He was safe, receiving treatment, seemed to be improving…Waiting seemed to be the better idea under the circumstances at the time.  However, things have…changed in the past few hours.”  Fury nodded at Coulson, who placed a folder on the coffee table.  Tony picked it up and glanced briefly at it. 

“What do this…Ren-Faire reject and some glowy cube thing have to do with Steve?” Tony asked impatiently.

“Loki, as he calls himself, is from a planet called Asgard. You are familiar with the incident in New Mexico some time ago?” Fury queried.  At Tony’s brusque nod, he continued.  “Thor, our first Asgardian tourist, is his brother.  Or something.  It’s complicated.  But this Loki arrived through a door in space, created by the ‘glowy cube thing.’  It’s called the Tesseract, by the way.  S.H.I.E.L.D. was working on analyzing what it could do.  Looked like the answer to a lot of the planet’s energy needs, according to people smarter than me,” Fury shrugged.  “Now Loki has it, I’m down an entire S.H.I.E.L.D. base and some of my agents have been compromised.”

Tony snorted. “Not seeing what any of this has to do with Steve, Patches.”

“Then let me put it plainly for you. We are at war, Stark.  And wars need soldiers.  Captain Rogers is THE soldier,” Fury said stoically. 

Tony resisted the urge to tell Fury that Steve was an artist, not a soldier. Under the circumstances, that probably wasn’t a fair assessment, but he really wasn’t in the mood to be fair at the moment.  “Find someone else.  He isn’t…Find someone else,” Tony responded flatly.  “I’m sure you have a stable of these guys holed up somewhere.  Call one of them up.  One who isn’t dealing with a whole host of other issues on top of whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. did to them when it decided to play God.”

“It wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D, Stark. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Fury huffed, leaning forward to brace his arms on his knees.

“Who was it then?” Tony questioned, voice sharp. “If S.H.I.E.L.D. is so lily-white in all this…who did this to them?  To Steve?  I want names, Nick.  No more bullshitting around.”

“Your father, for one,” Fury tossed out with seeming casualness. Well, that hadn’t been what Tony expected to hear.  “And Captain Rogers volunteered. For what its worth.”

“My father has been dead for years. Steve wouldn’t have been old enough to join the service when it happened, but nice try,” Tony added, shoving his hands in his pockets, feeling for his phone and pulling it out to check for JARVIS’s alert.  Nothing yet, dammit.  Fury was dancing around something, he knew, and he was just tired of dealing with it.

“I know that, Stark. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Fury continued.  “S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t do this to him.  We found him.”

Tony shook his head in frustration. “Oh, cut the crap, Nick!” he burst out.  “You’re trying to tell me you just happened to find Steve—“

“I’m telling you, we found Captain America,” Fury informed him.

“Great, I’ll donate to the monument. Dad would be thrilled. I’m talking about Steve.  They guy you…Where did you….” Tony trailed off, mind slowly wrapping around the implications of Fury’s words.

“In the ice,” Fury continued. “We thought he was dead, of course.  But hell,” Fury said, throwing up his arms, “no one really understands what the serum can do.  Not like we saw any of this coming.  Maybe that’s why your father couldn’t stop looking…maybe he suspected.  Hell, I don’t know.  But after we got him out of the ice…there was brain activity…we thought we would try to ease him into the news that seventy years had gone by, that the world was, well, let’s go with ‘very different’…set up a whole forties hospital thing.  What a giant fuck-up that turned out to be,” Fury said, tossing a suffering look at Coulson.  “He figured it out right away, panicked.  Ran out.  And then you happened.”

Tony’s mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out. Steve was…Steve was…this.  He couldn’t.  Tony just blinked stupidly at Fury for a moment, unable to comprehend the full import of what Fury was telling him. 

Steve was Captain America. _The_ Captain America.  From World War II.  Steve was born almost a hundred years ago. 

 _Cold_ …

 _Dark_ …

 _The water_ …

 _Jesus fucking Christ, Steve_.  It was like a physical blow, hitting him low in the gut.  He gripped the edge of the bar for purchase, not sure if he actually doubled over or if it just felt like it. 

“He thought…that day…the first day, when Happy ran into him…he thought I was my dad,” Tony remembered, voice flat. “I thought he knew me from, well, me.  Iron Man.  Thought…Jesus,” Tony choked out, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.  “Everyone he knew is dead.”

“You—why didn’t—how could you just leave him to—to me, like that? You should’ve—you should’ve told me—I could have—“ Tony was stumbling now, nothing able to coalesce in his mind, because this was just all too fucking much.  Not only had he managed to screw up Steve, but he’d apparently managed to single-handedly fuck up the world’s first superhero. _Don’t do anything in small steps, do we Stark?_ he thought bitterly.

“We didn’t just abandon him, Stark. Of course not.  You really think we’d let Captain America wander around taking in symphonies and ball games without paying attention?” Fury asked, raising a speculative eyebrow over his one good eye. 

“The doctors…” Tony began.

“S.H.I.E.L.D., of course. And the EMTs that picked him up. Were they ever panicking.  His vitals were all over the place,” Fury recalled, shaking his head.  “We still don’t understand what exactly the serum can do.”

“That…recovering mental patient halfway house thing the doctor was trying to send him to?” Tony questioned dully.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse,” Fury confirmed.

“Barton does a great schizophrenic,” Coulson remarked idly from his station behind the sofa. Tony shot him a disgruntled look that he ignored.

“And the counselor the doctor wanted him to talk to?” Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

“I understand Dr. Romanov is very easy to talk to,” Coulson offered helpfully. Tony shut his eyes and grimaced.  Of course.  Of course, they weren’t just going to let Steve fall into Tony’s lap and wash their hands of him.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony cursed, putting both hands on the bar to brace himself as he looked down and hissed out an angry breath. They’d been manipulating this situation the whole time.  Of course they had.  It was S.H.I.E.L.D.  Manipulation was what they did.  He’d been so fucking oblivious, too caught up in Steve and the puzzle he’d been gift-wrapped to notice all the little things that were off about the whole thing.

“Look…he was with you, someone S.H.I.E.L.D….knows a lot about. He wasn’t in any immediate danger.  There were…suggestions…that, after how he reacted when he woke up, the head injury and initial memory loss may have given the serum a chance to…limit the pace of his memory recovery to something more manageable.  And that we should let that happen,” Fury said.

“But not anymore, right?” Tony replied softly.

Fury sighed. “Things have changed.  A lot.  The information is in the packet.  Much as I’d like to let you keep playing house while the good Captain recovers, we need him, Stark.”

“I—he isn’t here,” Tony responded, and that hurt to admit out loud.

“We know,” Coulson said. “We have teams out looking for him, and we’re sweeping cameras, cell phones, that kind of thing. We’ll find him.”

Tony wondered briefly why Coulson was volunteering so much. He had to know Tony was looking for Steve as well. 

“So, you find him, then what? Hand him a ‘New Millennium for Dummies’ book and send him off to fight some alien demi-god?” Tony pressed, waving a hand at the expanse of holographic displays. 

Fury at least had the good grace to look slightly abashed at that. “I know it isn’t the best situation.  But it isn’t like we have much choice.  Loki has to be stopped and the Tesseract recovered.  We need him.”

 _Get in line_ , Tony thought vehemently.

Fury got up and walked to the elevator. “The packet Coulson gave you has what information we’ve gathered about Loki and the Tesseract.  We’d appreciate it if you took a look at it.  Any expertise you can offer would be…helpful.  To everyone,” Fury emphasized, and Tony figured Fury was probably barely containing his glee that he had Tony in a position where helping S.H.I.E.L.D. could possibly amount to the same thing as helping Steve. _Goddammit_.  He hated being screwed around with like that.  “If Captain Rogers returns to the Tower, we’ll know it,” Fury declared pointedly as the elevator doors opened. 

Fury hesitated a bit before stepping into the elevator. “I am sorry, Stark, believe it or not.  This wasn’t how I wanted to welcome Captain America back into the fold.”

Coulson followed Fury into the elevator’s cab, turning back towards Tony and reaching out to press the button for the lobby. “I’m not your enemy on this, Stark.  We have a lot in common, in fact.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Tony responded dully.

“We both want what’s best for Captain Rogers,” Coulson told him, an enigmatic smile playing around his mouth as the doors squeezed shut. “And we have the same dry-cleaner.”

Tony blinked at the closed doors. Any other time and he probably would’ve laughed at Coulson’s sheer brashness.  Now though…he checked his phone again, but there was nothing from JARVIS.  It was a big city, he told himself.  Give it time.  Except now he was in some kind of find-Steve race with S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Tony let himself breath in and out for a minute. Steve was Captain America.  It was still not fully processing in his mind.  He flipped open the folder Coulson had delivered, and loaded them into his database, expanding his arms so they appeared in holographic form, floating in front of him.  And there, of course, was Steve.  Tony could see it so clearly now, recognized the line of Steve’s jaw, the set of his shoulders, even just the way he moved was familiar now.  He remembered finding Steve walking down the street from the hospital in that ridiculous get-up and thinking of his father, home for a brief visit, looking over his science fair project with disdain.  His father had been on a stopover during one of his many searches for Captain America.  Shit.  Had some part of his subconscious been trying to tell him something, even then?  Not like he hadn’t spent enough time hearing stories about Cap, obsessively consuming comics and magazine articles and…um, gazing…at posters.  Possibly at night with a flashlight.  Anyway.  Not like he didn’t have enough thoughts of Captain America in his head. 

But of course, who would think…who would ever even think…seventy years…

Cap had been lost in the War. Everyone knew that.  Sure, Tony had entertained some crazy conspiracy theories in his time, but the idea of Captain America…Steve…being frozen for that long… _colddarkwater_ …no one coming for him.  Well, except for Tony’s Dad, of course.  And all the fucking grief he’d given his Dad for his obsession over the years.  How many times had he mentally cursed the man for a fool’s errand?  Not that Tony didn’t recognize the irony now.  Hadn’t he said himself that if Steve were gone, he’d do anything to find him?  He flashed back to Steve pressed against the tile wall at the far end of the pool.  He’d left him there, down in the ice. Tony had done that.  Not like he’d ever really believed there was anything except maybe a body to find, but still. _Colddarkwater_ What if he’d kept it going?  Been the one to find Steve, instead of S.H.I.E.L.D., knowing who Steve was, actually able to help him navigate reentry into a world that had left him behind.

But no, of course not. Because Tony had taken no small amount of spiteful pleasure in cutting off the SI resources that had been tasked with the search for Captain America just a few days after his parents’ funeral. _Waste of precious capital, after all_ , he thought harshly.

Scrubbing his face with his hand, he looked again at the S.H.I.E.L.D. file, digging deeper, and there, yes. The Red Skull. _Clever name there, buddy, stay up all night thinking of that one?_ Tony thought caustically.  So not a confabulation.  Some fucked-up Nazi-supersoldier-wannabe that Steve had fought.  Had “died” stopping this Red Skull asshole from blowing up half the United States.  Peggy Carter.  Howard and his vita-rays.  Steve had called him "Mr. Stark" right after the accident, Tony recalled uneasily...The War bonds gig, complete with photo of Steve in costume holding a motorcycle with some showgirls on it over his head. God, he must’ve hated that.  Performing monkey, indeed. 

 _Jesus, Steve_ , Tony thought, scrubbing his forehead with his palm.  He kept going through the file, dating all the way back to the Strategic Scientific Reserve’s files at the start of Project Rebirth.  And there, God, there was Steve, pre-serum.  Tiny, thin, asthmatic, anemic, allergic to…everything, color-blind, heart murmur, scoliosis… _Jesus fuck, Steve_.  Tony ran a thumb gently along the black and white photo of pre-serum Steve, could still make out the classic features and piercing, determined eyes.  Some things couldn’t be changed, he supposed.  And Steve had signed up for this.   To let them do that to him, try some crazy experimental procedure that might, _might_ turn him into the next generation of soldier, or, more likely, kill him in a horribly painful way. Of course he had.  This was the kid who kept actually getting sent home from the recruitment office, offered a way out, only to try again and again. Parents dead, no living family members.  Hadn’t Tony told himself that would be just the type of soldier S.H.I.E.L.D. would be looking for to use in their experiments?

And Barnes. Life-long friend and member of the Howling Commandos.  James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes.  The Hydra train. _Reaching…Something terrifying_.  His best friend, falling to his death, Steve not able to reach him in time.  Something so traumatic his mind simultaneously refused to let it go and refused to let him see the entirety. 

Tony’s phone rang and he hit the accept button immediately. “What do you have for me, J?” he asked quickly.

“I have located Mr. Rogers outside of a high-rise condominium building in Brooklyn,” JARVIS informed him.

“Send the coordinates to the HUD, JARVIS,” Tony ordered, heading for the launching platform.

“Sir, it appears there are several S.H.I.E.L.D. teams already on scene, including Director Fury and Agent Coulson,” JARVIS told him. “And a QuinJet.  It appears Mr. Rogers is entering the jet of his own volition,” JARVIS observed.

Damn. God-fucking-dammit.  He could fly out there and try to grab Steve off the QuinJet or wait it out and try to trust Coulson.  He stared at the launch platform, a sense of futility threatening to overwhelm him.  Steve had left for a reason.  If he was going with them because he wanted to…and Tony was hard pressed to imagine a scenario where they got Captain America in there if he didn’t…then maybe Tony should let him be.  For now. 

For right now.

Or maybe Tony just didn't want to fly to the rescue only to have Steve tell him to go away.  How much damage had Tony already done?

“Track the jet, JARVIS,” Tony instructed. “I want to know where they’re headed.”

“Yes, Sir,” JARVIS responded.

“Condo in Brooklyn, huh?” Tony asked.

JARVIS seemed to hesitate before answering. “Based upon my search of the property records, it appears that at the time Captain Rogers would have last visited it, it was the site of a small Catholic cemetery,” JARVIS finally said.

Tony’s face contorted in agony, some sound that he didn’t recognize as his own choking out of him, as he bent at the waist and put his head in his hands. He’d used that.  Steve, having no one to come looking for him.  He’d used that to get Steve to stay with him, let him think no one was looking for him because no one wanted to find him.  Except Tony, of course. Tony, who he could depend on (become dependent on). 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, doubled over, head bowed, thinking about Steve, how much pain he had to be in, how confused and how mightily fucked up this whole thing truly was. This wasn’t something he could just fix, put the pieces back together, make it something better.  Finally, desperate for a distraction, he turned back to the holographic displays floating about the computer terminal.  If he was going to help Steve, he had homework to do.  Work.  That was something he could do. The rest…this…he couldn’t sit here and think about it anymore.  If he did, he was going to come apart at the seams, and that was what Steve had more than earned the right to do, if he needed to, not Tony.   

Several hours later, his phone’s secure line rang. He picked it up and immediately recognized Coulson’s dulcet voice on the other end, despite the clipped, one-word message.

“Stuttgart.”


	14. Chapter 14

The problem with flying across a dark expanse of ocean is that it gave Tony a lot of time to think. Like what it would be like to choose to pilot a ship down into that deep, blank blue, survive the crash in good enough condition to know what was happening to you, holding your breath until it hurt, then letting the water in, fighting it at first, the last little pocket of air your lungs had been nursing finally letting go in a large bubble, and the water would be so cold, so cold it would hurt, a million pinpricks inside you, and you’d have a few moments after the panic, precious seconds as your brain got the message that your body’s supply of oxygenated blood was leaving it, organs and systems shutting down one by one, final seconds to realize that the last moments would be struggle and pain and fear and all of it alone.

And then to remember all of that, along with the fact that the world had said thank you for playing and moved on, and the lovely parting gift of everyone you ever cared about being dead or old enough to be your grandparent.

Well, all of the world had moved on except Tony’s father, that is. Who had kept trying.  And Tony had hated him for it.  Had hated him for caring more about a dead man than his own son.  Why, hello, irony, do please come in and have a seat at the table.  Howard had once called Tony his greatest creation, but that wasn’t true, was it?  It had never been true, not even close. If it had been, if Tony had been enough, maybe Howard wouldn’t have needed to keep searching to find something better. Maybe Howard had hoped…enough stories about Captain America, filling Tony’s head with dreams that later became expectations and then recriminations.  Or maybe the obsessive search for Steve had been some kind of penance, internal retribution for the evils he’d inflicted on the world.   Or maybe he really had some inkling of what the serum could do, maybe the frustration that grew to despair in later years was guilt at the knowledge of what he’d been unable to do.

Since thinking about his Dad wasn’t quite enough self-flagellation for one evening, the flight also gave Tony plenty of time to berate himself over how so much of what he’d blithely lumped in with Steve’s lost memories were actually things Steve had simply never known. Or how if he’d spent half the time he devoted to becoming an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics researching head injuries and memory loss, he might have questioned the suspiciously reassuring doctor a bit more.  Hell, if he’d spent half the time he spent picking out Steve’s wardrobe learning about Steve’s injury and subsequent supposed memory loss, he would have realized something was off a lot sooner.  The truth was that Tony hadn’t questioned those things, had just accepted what the kindly, lying doctor had said about brain injuries being so hard to figure out, because all those lost memories, those titillating scraps of remembrances, they had just been part of this wonderful puzzle that was Steve, gift wrapped for him to solve, present the solution to Steve on a silver platter and then proceed to bask in Steve’s gratitude.  Tony had spent plenty of time thinking about how that gratitude might be expressed, after all.  And it had been…well…fun…introducing things to Steve, seeing his delight with Tony’s gadgets and amazement at the day-to-day things Tony took for granted.

Not that he could totally blame himself for not piecing together that Steve was a resurrected super-soldier from the forties. That was too fantastical even for him.  Maybe. 

So, thoughts.

As soon as Tony reached German airspace, he had JARVIS pull up the location on the S.H.I.E.L.D. QuinJet in downtown Stuttgart. That really narrowed the search field, as it turns out.  Some kind of public concert hall.  Okay, then. Loki liked an audience, apparently.

“JARVIS, I’ve heard it said that music is the universal language. I’d like to teach the world to sing,” Tony hummed.

“Indeed, Sir. Black Sabbath or AC/DC for your goodwill ambassadors?” JARVIS queried.

“Thrill me, J,” Tony replied, spying the jet in the distance.

 “Agent Romanov, did you miss me?” Tony asked, accessing the QuinJet’s comm and smiling widely as ‘Shoot to Thrill’ filled the jet’s cabin. 

Tony looked down towards the front of the crowd, because hey, let’s just hang out while a jet hovers overhead threatening to shoot the world’s biggest Lord of the Rings fanboy. “Is there some villains cosplay site that S.H.I.E.L.D. should be monitoring, JARVIS?” Tony mused staring in fascination at Loki’s get-up, and then Loki tossed Steve a good ten feet, and Tony’d really had enough of the guy already.  He hit him with a repulsor blast and landed heavily, going to a knee.  “Make your move, Reindeer Games,” Tony intoned through the helmet.  “Good move,” he advised as Loki raised his hands in surrender.

Tony turned to look at Steve, who had come to stand next to him, the only evidence of fighting a demi-god being slightly elevated breathing. Tony switched up the faceplate and reached out a gauntleted hand for Steve, who immediately took a step back, Tony’s hand hanging loosely in midair.  Tony came to an abrupt halt.  Probably not the place for a PDA anyway.  Good call.  Yeah.  Going with that.

“Steve…are you…I was…” Tony said, bringing his hands back to his sides where they suddenly felt heavy and too large, and barely managing to force words past a suddenly closed throat. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, “Are you alright?  Just…tell me you’re alright.  I—you left and I—“

Steve hesitated for a moment, and Tony could’ve sworn his body started to move towards Tony before snapping back into place like a rubber band pulled taunt. “Mr. Stark,” Steve cut him off, giving him the barest of a nod.

“Mr. Stark?” Tony repeated blankly, for a moment honestly thinking it was some bygone politeness thing before realizing there wasn’t much actual politeness there. “Steve, what the—“

 “We should get him on the jet,” Steve said neutrally, signaling Natasha, hovering above in the QuinJet.  “Agent Romanov?  We need to move the prisoner to the jet.  Just give me a moment to get these people out of harm’s way,” he requested.

Turning to the crowd, Steve calmly asked everyone to slowly and carefully make their way past the barricades that were being set up to the nearest emergency responders, who would see to their needs and take their statements. It was all very reasonable and responsible.  Tony wanted to throw something at him.  “Would you…Steve, wait,” he called as Steve started to walk over to Loki.  “Wait just a minute…Steve, please, tell me what’s wrong.  I’ve been losing my mind since you left the Tower, would you just tell me if you’re okay?  Just…whatever it is…I mean, I know what it is, but whatever you need, we can—Christ, would you just look at me?“

Steve paused, back to Tony, and crooked his head around just enough to be able to catch Tony’s eyes. “We have orders.  I think we should follow them,” Steve replied, ignoring Tony’s questions. 

“Steve—“ Tony began again, head spinning because of all the scenarios he’d imagined, being greeted like a stranger hadn’t been one of them.

“Not now, Tony,” Steve ordered, jaw tensing, but there was something in his tone that gave Tony pause, an undercurrent of pleading and exhaustion and okay, yeah, probably a good time to remember that he’s likely just had a hugely traumatic experience followed by, well, another hugely traumatic experience and might not be ready to swoon into Tony’s arms just now. Not that Tony had expected swooning. Exactly.  But this…this weird formality thing…he was putting distance between them right away, something Tony wasn’t good with on his best day, never having met a personal space bubble he didn’t belong in the middle of.

“If the two of you need a private moment, I’m more than happy to wait,” Loki purred silkily, smirking in a dangerously satisfied way.

“Oh shut up, Boromir,” Tony shouted, flipping the faceplate down. Loki looked disturbingly pleased. 

Natasha had parked the QuinJet nearby and they loaded Loki up without further incident. Which just made every nerve stand on end, didn’t it?  Tony should probably be more concerned, but all he could do was look Steve over, eyes scanning for injuries, clues, anything that would give Tony some purchase to stand on here. Tony hadn’t known what to expect, hadn’t really given much thought to anything beyond get-to-Steve, but if he had thought about it, if he had…he would have expected something like relief or happiness or something more, well… more Steve, not this cold, impartial politeness thing.

He finally took a moment to really look at Steve…kind, dry-witted, Stooges-loving Steve…as Captain America, and okay, sure the suit was kind of ridiculous, but you couldn’t argue that he didn’t wear it well. Really, really well.  And there was the shield. The Shield.   Tony allowed himself a moment of giddiness, but just one.  No reason to go all Sheldon about it. Tony was absolutely not going to ask to hold it.  If Steve put it down and then maybe needed it handed to him at some point…well, Tony was a helper by nature.

They got Loki strapped into the QuinJet as Natasha took it to the air, headed for the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier. Into the belly of the beast, Tony thought darkly. Tony took the helmet off and placed it on a nearby shelf, standing as close to Steve as he could without actually touching him.

“I don’t like it,” Steve said, casting a look at their prisoner.

“What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?” Tony asked pointedly, eyeing Loki.

“I don’t remember it ever being that easy. This guy packs a wallop,” Steve said from his position looking over the cockpit, voice low as he turned towards Tony, catching his eye for a brief flash before looking away again. 

“Are you okay?” Tony asked immediately, stepping closer to Steve and this time, he couldn’t stop himself from running a hand down Steve’s arm, and it felt so good, so very good to just feel him again, even through the gauntlet, but it was something, some tangible proof that Steve was here, with him, warm and real.

“I’m…I’m fine, Tony. I just meant, he wasn’t exactly overwhelmed back there,” Steve explained, and suddenly Tony’s hand felt awkward where it was, though, was it, God, yesterday morning that he’d woken up on top of Steve with his face smashed into Steve’s neck? How was something that had been so easy suddenly so stilted?

“Ah, fuck it, Let Fury deal with Ivanhoe. Steve…You…can you talk to me, please?  I know this is, well…this is insane, this whole thing…I mean, you…well, you’re you, and I don’t know what to say, really, but—“ Tony tried. 

“Don’t you?” Steve asked sharply.

“Don’t—don’t I what?” Tony replied, taken aback.

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and okay, well, so Captain America was pissed. At him.  Fan-fucking-tastic.  How he’d managed that trick when he had been on the other side of the world worrying a rut into the Tower’s carpeting, he didn’t know.

“Did you know, Tony?” Steve asked softly. “Agent Coulson said you didn’t, but…”  Steve was grimacing, mouth twisting in a bitter way that Tony had never seen from him. 

“Of course I didn’t know! Do you really think I’d keep something like this from you, let you sit there wondering and worrying the whole time if I had any idea—“ Tony said, voice rising as he spoke, words becoming clipped with shock and hurt at the thought that Steve would think he could do that.

“Defective bag?” Steve said, staring straight ahead. Tony had been ramping up his spiel of outrage, perish the thought and all that, and suddenly found himself clamping his jaw together.  Oh.  Oh.  Well, crap.  Yeah, okay, so he had maybe known about the whole possible super-soldier thing…and not mentioned that to Steve.  Which he could see how that might look, well, a tad questionable from where Steve was standing.

“I—well, yeah, okay…I mean, yes, I thought that maybe…but S.H.I.E.L.D. with the serum or something…but not…not this,” Tony admitted. “Never this, I swear it, Steve.”

“But you didn’t tell me. You knew there was something…wrong about…about this, me…and you didn’t say anything.  Why Tony? Why wouldn’t you say something?  This…this is my life, and you…you didn’t tell me,” Steve said, voice demanding, but God, his eyes, his whole face, he looked so hurt, and fuck.  This was not…well, Tony’d had a plan.  A perfectly good plan that involved finding out what S.H.I.E.L.D. was up to, lining up a battery of doctors and psychiatrists and whatever else Steve might need and then, then, slowly telling him in a calm, controlled environment.  Which had obviously blown up in his face, but still.  It had been a plan. 

“I was going to tell you. I was.  I just…wanted to wait.  Until I knew for sure what we were dealing with, got some people, doctors and stuff, who could help, you know?  I was going to tell you, Steve, I swear.  I just wanted—“ Tony tried to explain.

“You just wanted it to be on your terms. In a way you could control,” Steve interrupted.  And yes, it was true that Tony had wanted everything set up, figured out for Steve, everything taken care of before he told Steve.  But that had been for Steve.  To help Steve adjust.  That was…at least partly true. But, if Tony were honest with himself, it was also true that doing it that way, keeping Steve out of the loop like that, handling everything for him…that would have made it a lot more difficult for Steve to just up and decide to leave, not when Tony held the information, had given Steve a place to live, protection from S.H.I.E.L.D., access to doctors…well, who had he really been trying to help there?  How much of that had been about helping Steve, doing what was best for Steve…and how much had been about making it next to impossible for Steve to just up and leave (Tony)?

“Tony…Tony, what if I’d hurt someone? I could have, you know,” Steve’s voice was harsh now, his breathing becoming labored with frustration.  “I didn’t know what I could do…I wasn’t careful.  I have to be so careful, Tony, you don’t—“

“You wouldn’t…” Tony began, and in that he was actually sure of something.

“I almost did. That night,” Steve whispered, looking away. “I could have hurt you, Tony.  And what if something…what if I hadn’t done what I needed to do because…because I didn’t know what I could do?  People could’ve gotten hurt, Tony.  I could’ve helped people, but instead I was…” Steve broke off, waving a hand in the air to apparently indicate ‘wasting time with you’ without actually saying it.  “I was given these abilities for a reason, Tony.  This…it’s my life.  You can’t just….you can’t keep things from me like that.  We could have figured it out together.  It would…it would have been…Agent Coulson is a good man, but…I would’ve liked hearing…this…from someone…from you,” Steve said quietly. 

“I—I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t…I’m so sorry,” Tony muttered, feeling something slipping away and having no idea where to hold on.  He ran an awkward hand through his hair, scrubbing his face.  This was…not going how he’d anticipated.  “I should’ve told you, you’re right.  Of course you are.  But, Steve.  You have to know…I wasn’t trying to hurt you.  I was trying to help.  That’s all…okay, that’s not all, I mean, I…yes, I was trying to help on my own terms, but I was truly trying to help you, too, Steve.  You have to believe that. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t…I never meant to hurt you.  Not for anything.”

Steve was silent for a long moment, but then nodded jerkily. “I know that,” he said quietly.  But Tony knew, intentional or not, he had managed to hurt Steve, taken what little agency he could’ve given him in this whole crazy mess and hoarded it to himself, hoping to play the hero, riding to Steve’s rescue, fixing things, fixing Steve, so Steve would be…what?  Beholden(trapped)?  Tony had done enough self-analysis to know that his own parents’ relationship was one that eventually became twisted in part because of a terrible power imbalance, his mom totally dependent on Howard for virtually everything she had.  How many times had he wondered why she didn’t just leave, when the drinking got really bad?  But she stayed, because leaving would’ve been so very hard, what with Howard controlling so much, making things just so easy for her to stay, and well, _Jesus fucking Christ_ , would you look at that?

Then the lightening came.

When it was over, Tony couldn’t help but feel a bit like a recalcitrant child who was told to stay out of the cookie jar only to be caught moments later with a couple of double-stuff shoved in his mouth. Steve’s disappointed face was a sight to behold.  When Steve asked if they were done here, he didn’t take his eyes off Tony.  The rest of the ride back to the helicarrier included their new Asgardian friend, which kept conversation to a minimum.  Once they reached the helicarrier, they transferred Loki to a S.H.I.E.L.D. escort.  Tony locked up the suit, ran a quick hand through his hair and headed off to find Steve. 

He was sitting on a low bench in some kind of locker room area, still in uniform, but with the cowl shrugged off, while one lone S.H.I.E.L.D. agent nervously attempting get his deodorant out of his locker until Tony gave him a pointed look. “We’re supposed to meet on the bridge for some kind of debrief,” Steve advised him dully. 

“I think, and this is just a guess, but I think they’ll wait for us,” Tony declared with a wink, taking the spot on the bench by Steve. They were quiet for while, but the silence wasn’t quite as awkward between them as it had been. Tony was really grasping here, he knew.

“I gave it to Howard, you know. The compass,” Steve said, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Tony blinked. “Ah—no.  No, I didn’t know that.  I’m surprised he never bragged about it, to be honest.  Talked about you…well, a lot,” Tony said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees only to lean back again and cross his legs, unable to keep still. 

“He was a good man,” Steve said fondly. “I thought he was crazy.  Brilliant.  But crazy.  He flew me on a night mission into Hydra territory once.  That’s…that’s why the compass.  We all had them, they were Army issue, not worth anything. Barely worked.  But…well, it was kind of a…what do you call it?  Inside joke.  You…I think maybe you reminded me of him. At first, I mean.  Maybe that’s why I was so…why it was so easy to trust you.”  Great.  So, Steve had liked Tony because he reminded him of Howard.  Wasn’t that just all warm and fuzzy and fucked up? 

“I…Howard and I…we weren’t really all that close, to be honest,” Tony admitted. “He was…” _away a lot, looking for you_ , _then drinking his disappointment down, cursing what life he’d been left with after he couldn’t find you, and I’m not sure I’m all that different, come to think of it_ “distant, I guess.  Hard to get to know,” Tony finished. 

Steve frowned a bit at that, the little furrow forming on his brow, but he nodded and didn’t question Tony on it. “I’m sorry.  About him and your mom, I mean,” Steve offered.  “I would’ve liked to have seen him again.  Agent Coulson…he said Howard kept looking for me?” Steve questioned with a trace of maybe hope, maybe regret, Tony didn’t know.  “I guess…well, it’s somehow comforting.  That someone was looking, I mean.” _And wasn’t that just a punch to the gut_ , Tony thought, insides twisting. 

“That…yeah. He did.  Never stopped looking,” Tony managed, unable to confess that he was the one that hadn’t looked, had left Steve down there, while Saint Howard had kept on trucking, year after year.

_colddarkwater_

He was probably going to have nightmares for years about that. Probably deserved them.

“That…that’s, well. I wish he’d found me,” Steve huffed.  And Tony knew, knew, he really, really did, that that Steve probably just meant that he wished Howard had found him sooner, wished someone he knew was still here, wished for some familiarity in a world where every single thing was something to be figured out for the first time, but it felt, God, after everything Steve had said on the QuinJet, it was hard to not see that at least some part of Steve believed that if Howard had found him, he would’ve handled it better than Tony, would’ve been better for Steve than Tony had been, because Tony had fucked it up, had put his own needs above Steve’s, had made it all about Tony, because isn’t everything?

“Right. Yeah.  Well, he didn’t.  You’re stuck with me, sorry about that,” Tony spat out, climbing off the bench and standing up.

“Tony, wait. That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Steve chided.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. All I’ve heard since I got here was how mightily I messed things up, but hey, I’m sure dear old Dad would’ve….You know what, fuck it, I’m done,” Tony said, turning to go.  Steve was up and grabbing his elbow faster than was really fair.

“Tony…I didn’t…I’m sorry. About what I said earlier.  I was…I…there’s just so much…what you did for me…it isn’t that I’m ungrateful, I just…” Steve tried, holding Tony in place as much with his sudden nearness as his grip.

“You just wish it had been someone else,” Tony stated. “Sorry to disappoint.  Guess I’m no Howard Stark,” he said, pulling at his arm, but unable to break Steve’s grip. 

“I know you’re not Howard, you—“ Steve started, but then Tony stopped pulling at his arm and turned toward Steve instead, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pushing him back, slamming against the wall of lockers with a loud, hollow bang, probably only able to do so because of Steve’s surprise. Also because Tony was shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat, so there was that.  Fuck Howard and fuck Steve and fuck S.H.I.E.L.D. and fuck Loki and fuck this whole stupid, fucking thing, and just, just… _let me_ , was Tony’s last coherent thought, as Steve made some sound as Tony’s mouth devoured his, and that was all it took.  Tony let his tongue roam Steve’s mouth, licking deep and pressing forward, winding his hands up through Steve’s hair and tilting his head for a better angle and it was good, God, so fucking good, teeth and tongue and warmth and Steve, opening for him, just him.  He wasn’t sure when the kiss turned sloppy from Steve’s harsh little moans, and oh yeah, that’s because Tony was running his hand up and down Steve’s cock through the uniform, and don’t think there wasn’t some niggling bit of fantasy fulfillment going on there, Captain America hard and writhing beneath his hand, and who the fuck designed this suit and where the hell was the zipper on this thing anyway?  He may have screwed up, may not be the person Steve wished he could be, but he could be the person Steve wanted, he could make Steve feel like this, give him this, and that was something, enough maybe.  It could be enough. 

“T—Tony, Tony,” Steve sputtered, and Tony pulled his mouth away from sucking and nipping a bruise into Steve’s throat to take in the gorgeous sight of Steve, face flushed, a light sheen of perspiration shining, blue eyes dark and wide, mouth red and swollen and slightly parted, breath coming in little pants, and _I did that_ , Tony thought triumphantly, keeping his rhythm going on Steve’s cock.  “Tony—stop.  Stop. Tony…we…I can’t—I’m Captain America,“ Steve choked out by way of explanation, his large hand coming to rest over Tony’s, ceasing Tony’s motion and pushing Tony away, though carefully this time.  Maybe later he could be grateful he didn’t end up landing ass-first on a metal bench for his efforts.

Tony took a step back, staring at Steve, trying to pull himself together and get his brain back online and over the fact that Steve had stopped him, had pushed him away, didn’t want this. So, not enough, then.  “You said…you said…before…you said if there was some part of you that you’d forgotten that didn’t want…you said…you said it wasn’t worth it,” Tony said, not sure if that was a reminder or a plea.

“Tony…when I said that…I didn’t…I didn’t know it was going to be this,” Steve breathed out softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Guess some things just aren’t worth it, then,” Tony replied flatly. He spun on his heel and left the locker room as fast as he could with any sense of dignity intact. 


	15. Chapter 15

Tony walked down the hall and turned a corner before stopping and bracing a hand against the bulkhead. That…that had gone spectacularly poorly.  Even by his admittedly somewhat warped standards.  A part of him did understand, at least semi-objectively, how difficult all this was for Steve.  It wasn’t like he couldn’t at least conceptualize how hard this would be for anyone.  Not to mention that Steve’s last memory of the state of same-sex relationships involved jail time.   Really, he got that.  He did.  Either that or he was just telling himself that was what it was because that was easier to believe than just accepting that now that Steve had other options and didn’t need Tony anymore, he wasn’t interested, full stop.  The end result was still the same.  Captain America didn’t want Tony, whatever the reasons, that had been pretty damn clear.  Tony pressed his back to the wall and closed his eyes.  He should be on the bridge talking over their new guest, but he couldn’t face Steve just yet. 

“You okay, Mr. Stark?” Coulson asked, coming up behind him with an annoying degree of stealth.

“Couldn’t be better,” Tony demurred. He was fairly certain Coulson was buying it from the placid look he got in return.  Also, the not being able to stand upright without assistance yet was probably a dead giveaway.  “How’s Medieval Times doing?”

“He’s quiet. It’s a concern,” Coulson responded sagely.  Tony just nodded in reply.  “Walk with me?” Coulson invited.  With no small effort, Tony managed to push himself off the wall and walk silently next to Coulson down the corridor towards the bridge.  Deep breaths.  Deep breaths. 

“My girlfriend moved to Portland. She’s a cellist.  It was a great opportunity,” Coulson said, apropos of nothing Tony could figure. 

“Uh, sorry about that. I’ll fly you there.  Keep the love alive,” Tony said dully.

“She knows where I am, if she needs me. The way I see it, if she wants this to go anywhere, she’ll come find me,” Coulson replied, not sounding entirely too hopeful.  “It was hard to let her just go like that, but she needed to get her head straight.  Figure some things out.  I’m trying to give her some space.”

“Sounds very mature, Agent Dr. Phil,” Tony said, clapping Coulson on the back. “Hope it works out.”  He actually meant it.  Coulson was a good guy, for all he’d threatened to taze him. 

They were almost to the bridge. He could hear Steve’s deep voice, dripping with disbelief at the whole situation.  “An army?  From outer space?” he heard Steve struggling to clarify.  Any other time, he would’ve smiled at Steve’s calmly accepting tone.  Honestly, he should be surprised the guy didn’t just find the nearest bed to crawl in, curl himself into a ball with his hands over his ears mumbling 'lalalalacan'thearyou,' under the circumstances.  There was a darker thought flitting around behind that one, the one that Tony didn’t want to think about.  Steve had seemed to be dealing with the Captain America, man out of time revelation fairly well, all things considered.  It was the Tony part that got scuttled.  Still, he should ask Coulson.  Given how he’d handled the whole palladium thing, Tony was probably not the best one to handle that kind of situation, not to mention that Tony’s best solution involved a very comfortable sharp-object-free-padded room for two.  So, probably not Tony, then.  Didn’t mean he could just make sure someone was keeping an eye out.  A very close eye.  Just to be sure.  Tony could see Hammer Time up ahead, trying in vain to answer for Loki.  Dr. Banner had already zeroed in on the iridium.  At least someone else had done the homework.

“You know, the first thing he did when we found him outside the condo was to ask where you were,” Coulson said evenly as they approached the bridge. Tony had been busy steeling himself to see Steve, so it took Tony a moment to process what Coulson was saying.  Tony stopped abruptly and pivoted sharply towards Coulson, placing a hand in front of him to stop his progress. 

“Just thought you’d be interested to know,” Coulson continued, shifting around Tony’s hand and heading towards the bridge. Tony wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle Coulson or hug him.  What the hell was he supposed to do with that?  So, Steve had asked about him…well, whatever that was had apparently passed.  Maybe he’d just wanted to be sure Tony wasn’t anywhere nearby to have to deal with.  Maybe he’d wanted to know where Tony was so he could kick his ass for withholding things from him. 

Tony settled for ignoring Coulson’s useless intel and hacking into the helicarrier’s server instead. Along with bonding with Banner and studiously ignoring Steve for no other reason than if he looked at him right now, he’d just end up grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him until some answers fell out.  Which would have been futile, sure, but satisfying.  That worked out fine until Fury made a Wizard of Oz reference and Steve, looking so proud of himself, piped up that he understood the flying monkey reference, tossing an unsure, but slightly proud, look over his shoulder at Tony.  A part of Tony wanted to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, recalling that day on the street when Steve had understood his own Oz reference.  Instead he just gave Steve a quick nod, which seemed to be enough, and got the hell out of there with Banner as soon as he could. 

He ended up in the lab helping Banner on the gamma ray detection scanner, tapping out various algorithms and equations on his monitor. It was easy to talk to Bruce, and somewhat of a relief to just immerse himself in a problem he could solve.  That was going so well until Steve walked into the lab, jumping down his throat for poking at the man who turned into a giant, green rage monster.  As if there was some kind of problem with that.  This from the guy who goes off to fight an alien demi-god with a magic staff using a giant dinner plate.  I mean, really.  And Steve was entirely too willing to trust Fury and his merry band of spies, which, considering that he was currently righteously pissed at Tony for not coming clean about the whole possible human guinea pig thing, was just fucking annoying.

“You think Fury is hiding something?” Steve asked, brow furrowing.

“He’s a spy, Steve. He’s THE spy.  His secrets have secrets.  He didn’t exactly knock down my door to tell you what was going on, did he?  You think he was doing that for you?” Tony demanded.  “It’s bugging him, too, isn’t it?” Tony said, pointing at Bruce.

“Doctor?” Steve said, looking over to Bruce in question. _Oh, because if Bruce agrees_ , Tony thought, disgruntled. 

“A warm light for all mankind, Loki’s jab at Fury about the cube?” Banner repeated.

“You think that was meant for Tony?” Steve surmised, a bit to Tony’s surprise. He’d seemed to be buying Fury’s spiel pretty well so far.  Steve turned to Tony again.  “You’re pretty much the only name in this ‘clean energy’ business Fury says is what they’ve been using the cube to figure out, right?  That’s…”  Steve cleared his throat a bit, looking uncomfortable.  “That’s what you were hooking up…that night…on, um, Tower Day…right?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah…that’s…” Tony began, an absurd bloom of warmth pooling in his chest that Steve remembered that he’d called it ‘Tower Day.’ “Look, maybe Fury’s a special snowflake, I don’t know.  Either way, we’ll know Fury’s game plan once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secure files.  JARVIS has been running it since I hit the bridge.  In a few hours, we’ll know every dirty secret S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever tried to hide, including your’s.  I couldn’t get at those files from the Tower.  I needed access to their internal server to be able to do the hack,” Tony explained, willing Steve to understand that was why Tony hadn’t done this before, when it could’ve helped him find the answers Steve needed. 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded ever so slightly at Tony. “I think Loki’s trying to wind us up. This is a man who wants to start a war, and if we don’t stay focused, he’ll succeed.  Let me know as soon as you find anything on the cube or…the other stuff,” Steve said, turning to go. “For now, we should try to follow our orders.”

“Followings not really my style,” Tony quipped.

“You? Not a follower.  I had no idea,” Steve responded, but there was a ghost of a smile there.  “And you’re all about style, aren’t you?” he asked softly, meeting Tony’s eyes.  Tony flashed back to the day in the lab, Steve visiting during his lunch and admiring the beauty of the armor, Tony teasing him about being a style-junkie. 

“Steve—“ Tony started, not sure what he was going to say, but not wanting Steve to leave just yet.

“Just find the cube,” Steve said, turning to go and steadfastly not looking back as the lab doors slid shut behind him. Damn it.  Bruce looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t make me poke you again,” Tony said, turning back to his monitor. “My Dad never shut about him, you know.  Captain America.  I thought he was exaggerating or delusional.  No one could be that—well.  Anyway,” Tony said, going back to his display.

“The guy’s not wrong about Loki,” Bruce replied, politely ignoring Tony’s comments. “He does have the jump on us.”

“I don’t think that’s too hard to do these days,” Tony admitted, tapping at the equation on the screen. Bruce was watching him in that careful manner that he had. 

“You know…I think I’ve got this now…if there’s somewhere else you need to be, I mean,” Bruce said without looking up from the screen in front of him.

“What? No, no, I’m…ah, fuck it, yeah, okay,” Tony said, stalking out of the lab and down the hall after Steve.  Catching up to him was no small feat, though, luckily, people tended to notice what direction Captain America went.

“Steve, wait,” Tony called as he watched Steve descend a set of stairs into the bowels of the carrier. Steve slowed enough for Tony to catch up.  “Where are you---what are you doing down here?”

“You said you thought Fury was hiding something about what S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing with the cube, right? That staff of Loki’s…it works a lot like a Hydra weapon,” Steve told him.  “Your computer program was running a little slow.”

“Okay,” Tony said, drawing out the word as he considered the implications. “You think S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the cube to make weapons,” Tony stated bluntly.

“Well, this isn’t exactly a sailboat,” Steve said, waving a hand around to indicate the helicarrier. And true enough…this was a ship of war, not some pleasure craft.  S.H.I.E.L.D. may say it was in the business of national security, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t go on offense if it felt the threat was high enough.  “If this thing was built according to any kind of Navy specifications, the armory and munitions would most likely be stored down here,” Steve informed him, starting off down the darkened corridor. 

They walked together a few more feet before Steve topped in front of a door marked Secure Storage 10-C. Inside, the room was stacked to the ceiling with metal crates.  “Door’s magnetically sealed,” Tony said, eyeing the locking mechanism.  “I can probably override—or you can just pull really hard, whatever.”

Tony eased through the door behind Steve, eyeing the crates stacked on the catwalk overhead. “What do you want to bet they put the good stuff out of---okay, now you’re just showing off,” Tony accused lightly as Steve leapt up to the catwalk, grabbing onto the railing for purchase.  He popped the lock on one of the crates and opened it.  “What do we have?  If its Jimmy Hoffa, I win a bet,” Tony called up.  Steve hoisted an assault rifle out of the crate. 

“I really hate it when I’m completely right,” Tony said flatly.

“No you don’t,” Steve corrected, still looking at the rifle in his hand.

“No, I don’t,” Tony replied. “But I do about this.”  Steve dropped back down to the floor, holding the rifle out to Tony to examine.  “Definitely more advanced than anything they’re using now,” Tony observed.  “I’ll need to take this to the lab and disassemble it to see how it really works, but this thing isn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill Smith & Wesson.”

“Not yet,” Steve said. “Find out what else you can in the secure files.  Then we’ll see what Fury has to say about this.  There…there could be other things in there…that we need to know,” Steve replied, looking hard at Tony. 

Tony nodded and headed out the door to go back to the lab, leaving Steve staring down at what was essentially a modern version of the weapons he’d died trying to stop from reaching America’s shores. Way to go, S.H.I.E.L.D.  By the time Fury arrived in the lab, questioning what Tony and Bruce were up to, since they’d stopped working on the scepter, and Tony was deep into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s classified files.  “The model’s locked and we’re sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we’ll have the location within half a mile.  What is Phase 2, Nick?”  Tony questioned lightly.

“Phase 2 is S.H.I.E.L.D used the cube to make weapons,” Steve said, dropping the assault rifle on the table.

“Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tessaract, that doesn’t mean—“ Fury attempted to explain.

“I’m sorry, Nick, what were you lying?” Tony asked, pointing to the screen JARVIS was displaying clearly showing the Phase 2 weaponry.

“Gathered everything? Including me, you mean? You weren’t looking for me down there.  You were looking for the wreckage of the Red Skull’s ship, not to find me, but to find anything related to the cube, anything that could help you understand what the Red Skull knew about what it could do,” Steve accused. 

“That true, Nick?” Tony asked with seeming casualness.

“I was wrong, Director. The world hasn’t changed a bit,” Steve bit out, and, to Tony’s surprise, moving to stand next to him. 

Then Natasha and Thor showed up and everything went to hell.

“…The world is filling up with people who can’t be matched, they can’t be controlled,” Fury was saying, not finding a particularly receptive audience.

“Like you controlled the cube? You should’ve left in on the bottom of the ocean, Director,” Steve said harshly. 

“Actually, it was Howard Stark who found the cube, out looking for you, Captain,” Fury informed him, bringing both Tony and Steve up short.

“Dad found it?” Tony asked at the same time Steve said “Howard found it?”

“I’d say that makes it SI property, Nick,” Tony replied. “Not that S.H.I.E.L.D., you know, mentioned their little treasure hunt.  Or other things, for that matter.”

“You really want to make this a finders-keepers thing, Stark?” Nick asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, weren’t you the bitter little boy who cut off all the funding for Howards’ expeditions?  What was it you called them?  It had a such a nice ring to it, so poetic, let me think…oh yeah, ‘Howard’s increasingly pathetic attempts at raiding the fridge’?  Don’t pretend you cared, Stark.  You couldn’t shuck anything to do with Captain America fast enough.”

At that, Steve turned sharply to Tony. “Is that…true?” he asked. 

 _God damn it, Nick_ , Tony thought.  That….unfortunately sounded exactly like something he’d say, particularly at the time.  “Look…it wasn’t…I mean, we didn’t…well, I didn’t think…I never thought, never, that you were…still…I wouldn’t have done that, Steve, not if I’d had any idea, you have to know that,” Tony implored.

“Anything else about my life you feel like telling me, Tony?” Steve asked with false nonchalance.  

“It was years ago, Steve. Before I ever even knew you. If you really think that I could do that…if I’d had any idea…well,” Tony said, throwing up his hands in frustration.  “You want to assign me with some god-like level of knowledge when it suits you, and then get pissed at me when I don’t find out everything for your fast enough. I can’t win with you.  Guess that’s pretty much par for the course.  Never could meet the standards of Captain America.”

Steve nodded, but Tony could tell by the set of his shoulders and tense line of his jaw that Tony’s youthful flippancy where he was concerned had hurt him deeply, even if he recognized the unfairness of the judgment. Somehow, Steve’s disappointment in him was far worse than his anger, driving Tony to try to explain.  “Look, it would’ve been crazy to just go searching the Arctic on the off chance that you…that you…” Tony began, cutting himself off at the same time he saw the words floating in front of his face like one of those word bubbles in the comics because, of course that was exactly what his father had done.  At least Steve just nodded without looking at him instead of throwing that in his face.  

“Right. Well. As we’ve already established, I’m nowhere near dear ol’ Dad on your ‘best of’ list, I guess this is just one more gold star for Howard.  Such a paragon he was, off looking for you, the one thing he ever got right, and ignoring all his mistakes back home,” Tony muttered bitterly. 

“Would you stop making this about you? Every time Howard even comes up—“  Steve started. 

“Wait, wait, hold on. How is this now about me?” Tony asked, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?” Steve demanded, stepping closer to Tony, into his space, sucking all the air out of the room. “You’ve made this whole thing about you and what you wanted from the beginning.”  Fury and Thor were arguing, Natasha and Banner were trading barbs about a watch list, or some such ridiculousness, the whole room was fraught with the kind of tension that left Tony’s whole body thrumming, ready to snap. 

“This ‘whole thing’? You mean the thing where I try to help you and then get crucified for it?’ Tony asked, getting into Steve’s face, wanting to see the hurt flash in Steve’s blue eyes, needing to see something of what he was feeling reflected there.  “No.  Fine. I get it.  You wish it had been Howard.  Or, fuck, anyone but me.  Fine.  Howard wouldn’t have left you down there.  He’d have just kept on looking, screw the collateral damage, because the lab rat from the forties was more important.  He would’ve known what to do when you remembered.  He would’ve done more, found out faster, dealt with this better, not screwed the whole thing up.  Would you have loved him then?  Would that have been enough for you?”  Tony steamed ahead, seemingly unable to stop himself, even when he finally saw the slash of pain contorted Steve’s features.  He wanted to feel terrible about it, but there was some sort of vicious satisfaction flowing through his veins, telling him to dig deeper, cut harder, find the weakest point, even as he stepped closer to Steve, leaning into his space, so close he would swear he could feel his warmth, and God, why was he saying these things, some small part of him wondered, thrashing around uselessly hoping someone would stop him, but everyone was busy shouting at everyone else, paying the two of them little mind.

“He obviously cared more about you than he did about the rest of us, though fuck if I know why. I saw the pictures.  Of you before.  It’s pretty clear everything special about you came out of a bottle, Rogers, but hey, no reason not to feel superior to everyone else, by all means,” Tony finished, a low buzzing echoing in his ears, drowning out the rest of the room until there was only him and Steve, and he wanted to push, to press, to hurt, to make Steve bleed the way he was bleeding, everything pouring out of him.

“I swear to God, Stark, one more crack—“ Steve warned.

“About your precious Howard? And you’ll what?  Treat me like yesterday’s garbage, not fit to shine your spangly red boots?  Too fucking late, Rogers, you managed that the second you remembered you were too good for us lowly peons just out there saving the world without the benefit of some secret sauce,” Tony spat out.

“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off and what are you, Tony?” Steve challenged, face flushed with anger. 

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” Tony answered. "But I think I already told you that."

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself.  It’s always been about you, Tony, from day one.  You never cared about finding the truth about me.  You cared about how finding the truth about me would affect you,” Steve accused.  And that…well, that hit a little too close to home.  Wasn’t there some saying that you always hurt the ones you love?  It was probably true, if for no other reason than they were the ones that knew how to get to you, knew the deep, dark corners where your secrets hid.  “You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you,” Steve continued.  “You couldn’t even tell me I might be some government project because you were too afraid I might like them better than you.  You weren’t helping me out of philanthropy.  Let’s not pretend you didn’t have…expectations.”

“I think I’d just cut the wire,” Tony replied. “Like I apparently should’ve cut you loose long ago, Capsicle.  Never did have a thing for older men, anyway.  Or repressed prudes, come to think of it.”

“Always a way out, always so easy to get rid of someone who doesn’t worship at the altar of Tony Stark…You told me you were like a superhero in the comics,” Steve snorted derisively. “How could you ever think that?  Your father flew into enemy territory at night in a private plane to save soldiers he didn’t know.  You can’t even be bothered to sign a check because it might have been something Howard would’ve appreciated and you’re just that petty to want to strike out at a dead man.  You may not be a threat, Tony, but you’d better stop pretending to be a hero,” Steve said, voice raw with some emotion Tony couldn’t identify.

“What, a hero like you? The kind that’s so scared, he hides behind a uniform?”  Tony shouted.  “You want to stand there and tell yourself I took advantage, fine.  But you were happy enough to let me, until you realized you had a better option.”

“Well, I’m so very sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of this, Tony. Did you even try?  Ever?  To find out about who I was?  Or did you just let me think that so we’d end up….so you could…”  Steve sputtered.

“Oh, just say it, for Christ’s sake! Did I hide things from you so I could fuck you?  No, Steve, no, I didn’t.  You might notice that from the whole not actually having sex thing I’ve been doing since I met you!  You don’t think it would’ve been easier to just leave you at the hospital that day with your Jello and ridiculous shoes?  Or toss you back to S.H.I.E.L.D. once I had an idea they were involved and let you be their problem?  You might not know this, but quite frankly, I don’t usually have to work nearly that hard to not get laid.  And believe me, you’re not worth this kind of fight,” Tony ground out.

“You want a fight? Is that what you want? Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds,” Steve challenged.  Thor was laughing and calling them petty.  Tony couldn’t really argue with that, considering.  He rubbed his forehead, for a moment just confused at how things had gone downhill so rapidly. He stepped back, moving out of Steve’s immediate space, blinking rapidly as the buzzing in his head intensified. He and Steve had been…well, not friends again or anything, but had been at least communicating like rational people.  Now, they were at each other’s throats.  Not that it hadn’t been simmering, but still.  There was pissed off and there was cruel, and they’d definitely left that line behind them a long time ago.  Tony forced his attention to Bruce, who was telling them how he’d tried to, Jesus, tried to kill himself, only to be thwarted by the Other Guy.

“Dr. Banner,” Steve was saying calmly, “put down the scepter.” When had Bruce even picked that up?  And why hadn’t they noticed?  This whole thing…Tony felt like he’d been turned inside out, every hateful fear about Steve spewing forth, and God, had he called him a lab rat?  What the hell?  Then the computer beeped, and they all turned to it, for a moment just staring blankly at it. 

“Got it,” Tony said, moving towards the screen. Steve was massaging his forehead with his hand, looking around the room in confusion as if seeing it for the first time.

“Sorry kids, you don’t get to see my little party trick after all,” Bruce said, joining Tony at the monitor.

“Located the Tesseract?” Thor asked.

“I can get there faster,” Tony said, checking the location.

“The Tesseract belongs on Asgard. No human is a match for it,” Thor insisted.

Tony turned to leave, ignoring him, but Steve stepped into his path. “You’re not going alone,” Steve told him.

“You gonna stop me?” Tony asked.

“You’re damn right I am. Tony, that thing is dangerous.  Loki’s had the jump on us from the get go.  That could be a trap, for all you know.  You can’t just fly off—“ Steve argued.

“I’m going. You guys catch up when you can.  Unless you really do want to try to stop me,” Tony challenged, trying to brush past Steve, which it turned out was pretty impossible.

“Put on the suit, and let’s find out,” Steve replied, gripping Tony’s shoulder, effectively holding him in place. “You’re not going alone. I’ve flown with you before.  You can take me with you,” Steve pressed.  And he so wanted to just say yes, because the idea of having Steve with him on this…well, hadn’t he briefly, God, it seemed so long ago, entertained the idea of Steve, with abilities Tony had assumed came from some bastardized version of the serum, joining him in some kind of super-boyfriends save the world campaign?  It would be so easy to just say yes. 

“No fucking way. The last thing I need is one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s errand boys along for the ride.  I’m not afraid to hit an old man, you know,” Tony said, knocking Steve’s hand off his shoulder.  Steve just blinked at him. 

“You…you wouldn’t hurt me,” Steve said, almost as much to himself as anything. “Not on purpose, anyway,” he mumbled.

“I—I—no. Well, no, I—I didn’t mean…I wouldn’t, of course not, you know—“ Tony stammered. _What the hell was wrong with him?_ he wondered, shaking his head to clear it.  Threatening Steve?  Stupid fucking staff.  “If you…I guess if you want to come along…”

“Do the two of you need to get a room?” Fury asked in annoyance. “Look, I hate to interrupt, but—“

“Oh my God!” Bruce shouted, looking up from one of the monitors. Then the room exploded.

Tony went down, something heavy landing on top of him as part of the wall collapse and fire breathed overhead. Suddenly, strong hands were pulling him up and out of the lab.  “You okay?” Steve shouted over the din of emergency sirens, secondary explosions and grinding metal.

“Yeah, I—yeah. I’m—you?” Tony asked, looking Steve up and down. 

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, taking in the scene. “Tony…”

“Yeah?” Tony answered.

“Put on the suit,” Steve ordered firmly.

“Yep,” Tony agreed. “I think that was one of the engines.”  A moment later, he could hear Hill’s voice confirming engine three’s turbine was out.  If one more engine went out, they’d be in freefall. 

“Stark! You copy that?” Nick’s voice echoed through his earpiece.  It was probably a sad commentary that his first thought was that he could just put the suit on and grab Steve.  Not a hero, indeed. 

“I’m on it,” Tony told Nick. “Find engine three,” he told Steve.  “I’ll meet you there.”

“On it. Tony—just—don’t do anything…” Steve started as they dodged around the debris littering the hallway.

“Heroic? No worries there, right, Cap?” Tony said, turning to head into the tech room where his suit was waiting. 

“I was going to say don’t do anything stupid,” Steve finished, the defeat in his voice sounding unnatural to Tony’s ears.

“Two sides of the same coin,” Tony said, punching in the code to unlock the door.

“They’re really not,” Steve said quietly, looking at Tony somewhat strangely. “Just be careful, would you?”

“Thought you said I was pretty good at looking out for myself?” Tony muttered as the door whooshed open, revealing the Iron Man armor standing in the holding unit beyond.

“I think you’re damn good at making it seem like that’s what you’re doing,” Steve replied, voice sounding tired and frustrated, causing Tony to look askance at Steve before heading over to the armor when Steve left it at that. “Meet you at engine three,” he repeated and took off at a run down the darkened corridor. 

A few moments later, Tony was airborne, taking in the damage to the engine. “Tony, I’m here,” he heard Steve’s voice through the HUD. 

“Good. See what we got,” Tony instructed, as he reviewed the engine layout on the viewscreen. “I’ve got to get this super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors and work on dislodging the debris.  I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position,” Tony ordered as he started pulling on the stuck rotor.  “What’s it look like in there?” Tony asked after a moment.

“It seems to run on some form of electricity,” Steve deadpanned. Tony bit back a laugh. 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Tony admitted.

“I’m suddenly wishing I’d actually paid attention to what you were saying all those times in the lab,” Steve said.

“And just what were you doing if not soaking up my brilliance?” Tony questioned, taking to blasting the broken debris off the engine when he couldn’t budge it.

“Pretty sure it wasn’t thinking about electric relays,” Steve confessed lightly, distracting Tony from the engine for a split second. “The relays are intact.  What’s our next move?”

“Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won’t re-engage without a jump,” Tony told him. “I’m going to have to get in there and push.”

“What? Tony, if that thing gets up to speed with you in it, you’ll get shredded!” Steve shouted at him through the comm.

“Then stay in the control unit long and reverse polarity long enough to disengage mag—“ Tony started.

“Tony, really? Do I need to remind you of our adventure with the ATM?  Would you speak English, please?” Steve requested calmly.

Tony let out a laugh, recalling the ‘wall that gives you money’ incident. “See that red lever?” Tony demanded.  “It’ll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out.  Stand by it, wait for my word,” Tony instructed, using his laser to break apart one of the bigger pieces of metal. Once he cleared the debris from the engine turbine, he started slowly pushing the rotor, using his boot boosters. 

“Stark, we’re losing altitude,” he heard Nick say through the HUD. After a few more rotations, Tony had the rotors going at a normal speed, and the helicarrier began to level out. 

“Steve, I need the lever,” Tony shouted through the HUD.

“I need a minute here, Tony,” Steve responded, and were those bullets in the background? What the hell was going on down there?

“Steve. Lever.  Now,” Tony said, growing more concerned as the engine started picking up speed.  As soon as he let go of the rotor, leaving it spinning on its own, the engine caught up to him, knocking the suit around like a pinball as he slipped in between the rotor blades.  “Ow…ow…ow…Steve!  Now!  Now would be good!” Tony called.  Finally, a vent opened and he dropped through it, though the suit was heavily damaged.  Righting himself, he shot towards Steve’s position, where he could see one of Loki’s men shooting at where Steve was trapped on a broken catwalk overhead. _Well, just fuck this shit all around,_ Tony though as he slammed into the man, knocking him unconscious or worse, and not really caring which one it was.  He rolled over and switched the faceplate up, as Steve landed on the ground next to him with a thud.  “You good?” Tony asked, looking up at him.

“Me? You’re the one that just got up close and personal with an engine.  The suit, it’s…are you…alright in there?” Steve breathed out, a hesitant hand hovering a few inches over the chest of the suit just above the arc reactor.  Tony nodded in reply, letting his head fall back against the floor for a moment and closing his eyes. That had been…close.  Closer than he liked.  It really was a fine line between heroics and stupidity. 

Tony started to respond to Steve’s question, but anything he’d planned to say was shattered by Nick’s voice over the comm. Coulson. _God-fucking-dammit_.  That smug son of a bitch had killed Phil. 

 “I'm okay,” Tony said dully, taking Steve’s proffered arm to get up, since the suit was barely functioning. Fury was calling them to assemble on the bridge.  Tony wanted to tell him to go to hell, but Steve was walking slowly down the corridor, so he followed, if for no other reason than it was something to do and he supposed he owed it to Coulson to listen to Fury this once.

Steve sat at the large conference table, listening dutifully as Fury gave his spiel. When Fury tossed Coulson’s blood-stained Captain America cards on the table in front of Steve and he didn’t just up-end the whole thing in Fury’s lap, Tony figured that was about all he could handle and walked out, not even looking back when Fury called the idea of a team of heroes an “old fashioned notion.”  The prick.  That was aimed at Tony as much as Steve.  Steve for somehow failing to lead this misbegotten group of has-beens into something more after a few hours and a PMS-inducing cube and Tony for basically being the reason why.  He’d had him for three whole weeks and managed to break Captain America.  Aim high, he supposed bitterly.

He somehow ended up in the detention center, the space for the cell meant for Bruce now empty and useless, Coulson’s blood drying on the wall.   Steve came in on the upper level.  God, they really were like these horrible magnets, weren’t they?  Steve was looking down at him, face tight with emotion.  “Was he married?” Steve asked quietly.

“No. There was a…uh, cellist, I think,” Tony answered, not looking up at him. He kept staring at the space where the cell had been.  Loki had played them the whole time, manipulated their own anger and insecurities and worse yet, they’d made it blindingly easy for him to do. 

“I’m sorry. He seemed like a good man,” Steve said.

“He was an idiot,” Tony responded, too quickly.

“Why? For believing?” Steve frowned. 

“For taking on Loki alone,” Tony answered.

“He was doing his job,” Steve replied.

“He was out of his league. He should have waited.  He should have…” Tony began, voice hard with frustration that had no available outlet.

“I don’t think you really believe that. Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony.  Sometimes…sometimes you don’t know what to do, don’t have all the answers, or even know all the questions.  Sometimes…you just have to do the best you can with what you have,” Steve said quietly. 

“Right. How did that work for him?” Tony demanded, turning to walk away.

“How does it ever work? Doesn’t mean people just stop feeling like they have to try to do what they can.  Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?” Steve asked. 

“We are not soldiers!” Tony shouted. “You want to kowtow to S.H.I.E.L.D., fine, go right ahead.  By all means, give the benefit of the doubt to the spy agency that’s been hiding their little nuclear Rubik’s cube for a few decades.  And if they managed to find that, why the hell didn’t they find you?  Once they knew…once they had that…they had to know the ship you were on couldn’t have been that far…they could’ve tried…they could’ve told me.  But decades, Steve.  Fucking decades…,” Tony shook his head.  “I am not marching to Fury’s fife.  He’s been manipulating all of this since they found that damn cube.  You, me, the whole thing.  You think he left you with me out of the goodness of his shriveled black nugget of a heart?  He wants the Avengers.  He wants us to be a team.  Hell, he probably hoped--” Tony cut himself off before he said more than he intended.

“I know you’re not a soldier, Tony. In a way, it’s easy.  Well, easier anyway.  When you can just follow orders, don’t have to make the choices that are going to hurt, no matter what you do, when there are no good alternatives.  But you…you could never be that,” Steve said, shaking his head.  “You’ll always be the one that wants to take on everything, wants it all to be on your shoulders.  I thought that was so you could control things, make it all about you, but that’s not it.  At least, that’s only part of it.  You just can’t stand to see people you…other people…hurt, not if you can help it,” Steve said, leaving Tony staring up at him, mouth opening and closing without any sounds escaping.  What?  That…what?  Tony opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure what he wanted to say.  Apologize for, well, everything he'd said in the lab was probably a good place to start, but right now...right now, it was all so raw.  And while Loki's staff had certainly done it's part...it had only brought what they were feeling to the forefront, only served to take away the preservation instinct that would have kept those thoughts from ever seeing the light of day.  While Tony certainly didn't believe the things he'd said, the feelings behind them were real enough, close enough to truth that he couldn't force the apology, not when Steve could so very easily throw it back in his face, and he didn't think he could handle that on top of Coulson, so it sat on his tongue, turning his mouth to cotton.

“Right now, we’ve got to put everything aside and get this done.  Now, Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list…” Steve started.

“He made it personal,” Tony interrupted.

“That’s…yeah, he did, but that’s not the point right now,” Steve replied.

“That is the point. That’s Loki’s point.  He hit us all right where we live.  Why?” Tony mused.

“To tear us apart, not that we weren’t doing just fine without his help,” Steve responded. Tony shot him a disgruntled look, but Steve just shrugged.

“He knows he has to take us out to win, right? That’s what he wants. He wants to beat us and be seen doing it. He wants an audience,” Tony continued.

“Right, we caught his act in Stuttgart,” Steve put in. “He had this whole speech.  Why do they always do that?”

“Villain School of Speechifying Nonsense, I don’t know. Anyway, that was just a preview.  This is opening night.  Loki’s a full-tilt diva.  He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered---“ Tony sputtered to a halt.  Steve, to his credit, just raised an eyebrow.

“Sonofabitch,” Tony muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. They were pretty mean to each other. I think they have some issues to work out. Hope the long chapter makes up for the use of Avengers dialogue. Thank you again for reading, commenting and kudo-ing. Makes my day!


	16. Chapter 16

“The suit’s too damaged to carry you,” Tony said, walking in the suit towards the space near engine three that had sustained the most damage, but offered a convenient giant hole in the side of the helicarrier for Tony to use as an exit. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved to have an excuse not to have to take Steve with him or depressed over the thought of even needing an excuse not to take Steve with him.

“I’ll take the jet with Widow,” Steve replied, keeping pace beside him. “Meet you at the Tower.  Any word on whether Loki already has this…alien army…coming through whatever portal he’s using the Tower’s reactor to create?”

“Haven’t heard anything yet. You’d think that would be hashtagged by now, if it were happening,” Tony answered, then caught himself at Steve’s frustrated frown.  “Um…that it would be on the news.”

“I actually got it, I was just thinking of a world that needs something called ‘hashtag-invading-alien-army,’” Steve admitted, shaking his head in disbelief. Tony barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. 

“I guess there are a lot of…differences for you. The whole seventy year jump.  I mean…that’s…well, a lot has changed.  Must be…disconcerting, I would imagine,” Tony offered as an olive branch.  Were they doing this?  This almost-friend thing now that Coulson was dead and they were kind of required to save the world?  Tony honestly wasn’t sure what he thought about that idea.  Friends with Steve…at one time, friends with Captain America would’ve been a childhood dream come true.  Now, it just seemed the lesser of the options.  An hour ago, they’d been at each others’ throats anyway, slinging barbs sharp enough to draw blood.  And now were they really just going to pretend that hadn’t happened, that they hadn’t meant to hurt, to wound, hadn’t known exactly how to inflict the most damage?  Then again, that was the thing with Steve.  It had always been easy with Steve, to slip into this comfortable place where Steve just slotted right in to Tony’s life.  He just didn’t know if he could let that happen again, or if he could handle a space filled with a Steve he couldn’t fully have, not after coming so very, very close. 

 “Look, Steve.  About what I said.  Before.  In the lab.  I didn’t mean—well, that’s not it, I mean I did, some, in a way, but not…well, not the way it came out,” Tony managed feeling like the world’s biggest asshole.  Why couldn’t he just apologize and let it go at that?  “I mean, you…the you before…you were, well you,” Tony said, waving a metal hand to indicate Steve  now, “you were…” _beautiful, brave, amazing_ , “obviously different, but I didn’t mean that.  What I said.”

“I think we both said things we wish we could take back. Doesn’t mean some version of those things didn’t need saying,” Steve said with a hard look.  “What I said…what I accused you of…that’s not what I think, Tony.  Not really.  But…I was...I thought maybe it might be true.  Or I was afraid it might be.  I don’t know.  I don’t really think you would…do that.  I don’t.  I just-- This whole thing with you…I’m angry, but…I don’t know who or what I’m angry with anymore,” Steve admitted, studying Tony closely.  “This world.  This time.  Me.  You.  Fury.  There are too many choices, but none of them seem right.”

Steve stopped in front of the doorway leading to the remnants of what had been part of engine three’s control compartment. “I know not all the changes are bad.  It’s just…there’s a lot of them.  Some things…some things I didn’t think of as ever changing, didn’t really think about what that would be like and now…well, disconcerting is as good a word for it as any,” Steve acknowledged, looking at the open sky revealed by the gaping wound in the side of the helicarrier.  “It’s just so easy to be angry at you, Tony.  You let me, let me push and yell and pour everything out onto you, and you keep coming back, no matter what it might end up costing you.  I don’t understand why you do that to yourself.”

“Some things are worth it,” Tony replied softly, not looking up. Steve didn’t say anything more for a long moment, letting Tony’s words and those unsaid hang between them.

“I guess they are,” Steve said, a note of sadness tingeing his voice. “Safe journey, Tony.  We’ll be right behind you,” Steve promised, moving to go.

“Steve…” Tony called after him to tell him to land on the northeast side of the Tower. “I’m sorry.  About not finding you,” was what came out, because that was the thing that wouldn’t stop skittering around in the corners of his mind.

Steve paused as he walked down the corridor, shoulders stiff. “I think maybe you did,” he said softly, without turning, leaving Tony standing there in the rare circumstance that only seemed to happen around Steve of not having any clue what to say. 

Tony took to the air, rerouting as much power as he could to the repulsors, hoping the suit could last the duration of the trip in its damaged state.  “JARVIS?  Take the arc reactor for the Tower offline,” Tony ordered as he flew, hoping maybe he could stop Loki and Selvig before they got the thing going.  At last, he saw the Tower in the distance and yep, sure enough, there was an uninvited guest. 

“Sir, I took the arc reactor offline. The device is already self-sustained,” JARVIS informed him. Damn.  Nothing was ever easy. 

“Steve, you copy that?” Tony asked through the comm.

“We’re en route now. We’ll be at the Tower shortly.  See if you can distract Loki until we get there,” Steve suggested.

“Any ideas for how I distract an alien demi-god bent on world domination because Daddy didn’t like him best?” Tony huffed.

“Just be yourself,” Steve said none too helpfully. “You could always insult his plan.  This whole thing is a tantrum, not something he’s actually thought out.  How does he see this possibly ending for him?  At least Red Skull’s plan had a logical conclusion.”

“Are you…are you…of all of this, you’re insulted by the demi-god’s flawed logic? Of course you are, why am I surprised?” Tony said as he approached the Tower.  He couldn’t believe there was an alien demi-god, a cube of ultimate power, an alien army bent on destruction and he was smiling.  Actually, yes, he kind of could.  The Tower loomed ahead, and even from this distance, he could see the burst of energy emitting from whatever device Selvig had constructed to concentrate and aim the cube’s power.

“Shut it down, Dr. Selvig,” Tony commanded, floating in midair above Selvig’s position atop the Tower. Selvig blathered something back that amounted to a no, so Tony tried to blast the device.  Rather unsurprisingly, this had no effect.  Why make anything easy now, after all? 

“The barrier is pure energy. It’s unbreachable.  The Mark VII is not ready to be deployed,” JARVIS informed him. 

“Wow, you’re just full of help, there, J. Steve, its up and running,” Tony called through the comm.  “And we have party crashers at the Tower.”

“Copy that, Tony. We’re almost there.  Try not to be too…you…with Loki, okay?  Dr. Banner was right about him…something about a ‘bag of cats’?  I didn’t know that one, but I got the gist,” Steve cautioned.

“And you think I can’t tread carefully with the certifiably insane pretentious wanker with his stick of ultimate doom?” Tony questioned lightly.

“Well, you probably don’t want to lead with that,” Steve suggested, bringing a grin to Tony’s face again. Maybe they could do this. This kind-of friend thing where they fought together and didn’t hate each other afterwards. 

“JARVIS, skip the spinning rims. We’re on the clock,” Tony ordered as he landed on the Tower’s platform and let the gauntlet of devices unsuit him as he walked into his penthouse. He headed as casually as he could muster towards the bar area where he’d deposited one of the biometric bracelets for the new armor, one of Steve’s helpful, now apparently life-saving, suggestions. 

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity,” Loki crowed, walking through Tony’s penthouse like he owned the place, toting the staff.

“Uh, actually, I’m planning to threaten you,” Tony said with a slight smile.

“Tony…” Steve sighed through his earpiece. “Tell me you have a bracelet handy?”

“You should have left your armor on for that,” Loki remarked idly.

“He’s not wrong,” Steve’s voice echoed. “Armor.  Now would be good.”

“Yeah, it’s seen a bit of mileage,” Tony admitted. He wasn’t even sure who he was talking to at this point.  “You’ve got the blue stick of destiny. Want a drink?” Tony asked.

“Stalling me won’t change anything,” Loki challenged.

“No, no, no, threatening!” Tony reminded him. “No drink? You sure?  I’m having one,” Tony said as he poured a drink for himself.

“Of course you put one by the bar,” Steve’s voice echoed in his ear.

“The Chitauri are coming, nothing will change that. What have I to fear?” Loki questioned haughtily.

“The Avengers,” Tony answered. “It’s what we call ourselves,” Tony said with a slight grimace. 

“Actually, none of us has actually used that. I think that was some focus group thing Hill put together.  Or they just drew it out of a hat,” Steve intoned dryly through the comm.

“Sort of like a team. ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’ type of thing,” Tony sighed. 

“Okay, I know you made up that last part yourself,” Steve replied. Tony ignored him.

“Yes, I’ve met them,” Loki countered.

“Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I’ll give you that one,” Tony said with a slight smile. “But let’s do a head count here.  Your brother, the demi-god, a super soldier, a living legend who kind of more than lives up to the legend, which is saying something coming from me.  A man with breath-taking anger management issues, a couple of master assassins, and you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.  Not to mention me, because it turns out, some of those folks are kind of important to me, and I find I don’t much like you trying to kill them.  It’s a thing.”

“That was the plan,” Loki said confidently.

“Not a great plan,” Tony countered. “When they come, and they will, they’ll come for you,” Tony said, pulling one of the bracelet honing devices from under the bar countertop.

“I have an army,” Loki replied, voice dripping arrogance.

“We have a Hulk,” Tony countered, stepping away from the bar. He needed space to call the new armor.

“We’re almost to the Tower, Tony. Keep him busy just a bit longer,” Steve said.  “There’s no way he wins this.  He can’t really think this ends with him sitting on a throne.  Hit him where it hurts.”

“I thought the beast had wandered off,” Loki speculated.

“You’re missing the point. There’s no throne, there is no version of this, where you come out on top.  Maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us, but it’s all on you.  Because if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be damned sure we’ll avenge it,” Tony vowed as Loki approached him, raising the staff.

“Inspiring,” Steve said drolly in his earpiece. “Watch out for his staff. Wait…that…oh, nevermind,” he stammered as Tony huffed out a laugh.

“How will your friends, your precious Captain, have time for me, when they are so busy fighting you?” Loki demanded, tapping Tony’s chest with the scepter. Tony looked down at it in bemusement. 

“It should work,” Loki said, frowning in confusion.

“Well, performance issues. You know” Tony offered.  “Not that I really know anything about that, but, they say one in five…”  Well, Steve _was_ listening, so…

“Tony! For the love…would you…I said distract, not completely piss off,” Steve shouted through the comm.  Tony could swear he could hear Steve trying to stifle his laughter while simultaneously urging Widow to get here faster.  At least, he thought that was what he heard.  It was hard to tell for sure what with the demi-god deciding he’d had about enough of Tony’s charm. 

“JARVIS, anytime now!” Tony shouted as Loki grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his air and tossed him across the room.

“Tony!?! JARVIS, deploy, now!” Steve ordered through the comm.

“You will all fall before me,” Loki raged.

“Eh, you’re not really my type. I prefer—“ Tony chocked off as Loki grabbed him once more and this time sent him flying through one of the Tower’s penthouse windows, the impact knocking the air from him and momentarily whiting out his vision.  Unfortunately, when he came back to himself, he was staring at the pavement getting bigger and bigger.

“Tony!” he heard Steve screaming through his earpiece, but the pod was already on its way to him, transforming into the Mark VII suit and latching onto Tony as he fell.

“I’m fine,” Tony called. “Good call on the strategically placed bracelet thing, by the way.”  He heard Steve’s relieved breath of air through the comm link. 

“Always happy to make a contribution. Other than the floral arrangements, I mean,” Steve replied.  Tony couldn’t help but grin under the helmet. 

“They were lovely,” Tony insisted.

“Damn right they were,” Steve stated adamantly, eliciting a sharp, surprised bark of laughter from Tony. “Now, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but please stop mocking the alien demi-god and let’s fight the army from outer space.”

“One more thing, and I’m all yours,” Tony insisted, floating back up to the penthouse level of the Tower and facing off with Loki. “And there’s one other person you pissed off.  His name was Phil,” Tony intoned through the helmet as he fired his repulsors at Loki, sending him spiraling backwards and landing in a heap.  Well, that was certainly satisfying. 

“Uh, Tony? Not to take away from your moment, but there is something happening in the sky above the Tower,” Steve reported. 

“Aw, shit, I see it,” Tony said as he headed towards the portal. From his shoulder, he fired multiple rocket, most of which find a target, but there are clearly too many of them for Tony to handle.  “Uh, Steve…Anytime you want to join in, feel free.”

“Stark, we’re heading north east,” Widow informed him.

“What, did you stop for drive-thru?” Tony asked.

“I was hungry,” Steve replied evenly.

“You’re always hungry. Swing up Park, I’m gonna lay ‘em out for you,” Tony ordered, swooping around the Tower.  “I see Loki and Thor are having a healthy, productive brotherly discussion about boundaries.  I’m bringing a few friends to meet you, Widow,” Tony called as he swept down Park, a host of Chitauri on his tail.  The QuinJet’s machine gun took aim behind him. 

“Sir, we have more incoming,” JARVIS broke in.

“Fine. Let’s keep them occupied.  Steve, you copy that?” Tony asked, looping around buildings and searching the skies for more.

“We see them. We’re headed for Loki,” Steve told him.

“Not a good idea. He still has the scepter, he can—“ Tony started, but saw his warning was too late as the QuinJet was hit with a blast from Loki’s glowstick of destiny.  Dammit.  “Steve!?!”  he shouted as the QuinJet plummeted to the ground, landing hard in a crunch and twist of metal, black smoke billowing up.

“We’re fine. All of us,” Widow’s derisive voice called over the comm.  “Thank you so much for your concern, Stark.  I’m touched.”  Tony thought he could practically hear her smirk.  “He’s already out the back, by the way.”  Yep, definitely smirking. 

“I’m on my way,” Tony replied, not really caring how much he might be revealing. He figured Natasha probably had his number anyway.  He headed for the downed QuinJet, spotting Steve, Natasha and that Barton guy on a bridge over the highway, all staring up into the sky.

“Tony…Tony are you seeing this?” Steve breathed out in dismayed awe.

“Seeing what? Oh,” Tony said, finally looking at something other than Steve.  “I’m seeing.  Still working on believing,” Tony answered. 

“Yeah, me too. And I thought popcorn you cooked in a bag was strange,” Steve intoned in amazement. 

“To be fair, that actually kind of is,” Tony admitted. “Where’s Banner?  Has he shown up yet?”

“Banner? You think he’ll come?” Steve questioned. 

“Just keep me posted. JARVIS, find me a soft spot,” Tony ordered.  He didn’t understand what this was with Steve, this thing there were doing now, in the wake of the helicarrier attack and Phil’s death and maybe it was just a little bit of something raw peeling back, but something healthier underneath.  Really, objectively, he knew he should probably feel horrible about the whole invading alien army tearing up Manhattan, and he would, he was sure, later when all of the destruction and devastation was laid bare…but this was…this was…fantastic. This.  This where he got to fight alongside Steve and the others.  A team.  It didn’t hurt that Steve cared, or at least, seemed concerned that Tony not get killed by Evil Aragorn.  So, baby steps, okay, but progress.  He’d take it. 

Flying overhead, curving around buildings, he glanced down and saw Steve land solidly on top of a police car, shouting at the cop something about getting people out through the subway.   Huh. That was a good idea, actually.  The cop, apparently, in what was clearly a fit of temporary stupidity, disagreed momentarily, but was convinced of the reasonableness of this plan by Steve chopping the arm off one of the aliens.  Some people just needed a visual aid to understand. 

Tony swerved around a bank building, finding himself face to face with one of the leviathans. He tried the rockets, but that seemed to just piss the thing off.  It’s entirely possible that Steve has a point about this.  

Tony watched as Steve, Nat and Barton did their best to hold off the Chitauri from the bridge. “What’s the story upstairs?” he heard Steve ask Thor as the lightening dissipated, leaving the ground littered with the bodies of Chitauri soldiers.

“The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable,” Thor admitted.

“Thor is right,” Tony cut in. “We gotta deal with these guys.”

“How do we do this?” Widow asked.

“As a team,” Steve replied. “I know we all want to deal with Loki.  But the only way to protect the city is to work together.  Loki wants to keep the fight focused on us, and that’s what we need.  Without him, these things could run wild.  Tony’s up on top, he’s going to need us…” Steve trailed off as Bruce showed up on a small motorbike. 

“Tony? Dr. Banner is here,” Steve told him.  “Just like you said.” 

“Now say, ‘Tony, I’m sorry I doubted you. It is obvious you are always right and from here on out, I will always listen to you,’ and I’ll let this one slide,” Tony said with a grin. 

“Tony, I’m sorry I doubted you,” Steve replied softly, but firmly. And that…well, that…well, that was…ah, hell, he didn’t know what that was. “Also, don’t push it.”

“Tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you,” Tony ordered, swerving from behind a building, leading one of the leviathans behind him.  Widow apparently disagreed with his definition of party, but probably only because she had never been to one he’d thrown.  This?  This was basically Vegas circa 1997.  Well, minus the pasties and the tiger.  As the leviathan flipped up and over from the force of the Hulk’s fist smashing into it’s head, Tony found his soft spot and fired. 

“Watch the…um…meat,” Tony warned, as charred, sizzling bits of the thing rained down. Steve flipped his shield up like an umbrella.  Tony snorted.

“I heard that,” Steve said tightly, the reverberations of leviathan parts hitting the shield ringing loudly.

“Guys,” Widow called, in what was probably justified annoyance as more and more, a seemingly endless line of Chitauri flowed through the portal.

“Call it, Cap,” Tony said as he landed. A moment later, he was dragging Barton off to a rooftop before flying off to patrol the fringes of the perimeter Steve had set.  At Barton’s urging, he banked through a tight corner, sending the few of the alien jet skis into the side of a building, before heading towards where Thor was battling a squadron on Sixth Avenue.  A moment later, he looked down to see Steve tossing Widow onto the back of one of the Chitauri chariots with his shield.  Tony quickly fired off a few blasts to drop a couple of the aliens off her tail before landing next to Steve on the bridge, blasting several of the Chitauri as he did.  It felt completely natural to turn to see Steve raising his shield towards Tony, knowing immediately what he was thinking, and using the shield to reflect his blasters around them, dropping the aliens as they approached.  Like they’d done this a thousand times.  Of course, this worked.  Of course, _they_ worked.  That had been the point all along, something maybe Fury or Coulson had recognized, had allowed to linger, to grow, hoping this would be the result.  Synergy, it was called, some stupid marketing buzzword to describe this amazing thing that happened, that made him better when he was next to Steve.  

Even if it was less than he’d hoped, it still made him more than he’d ever thought he could be.

“So. That worked well,” Steve observed, looking around at the dead aliens littering the ground and offering Tony a small, lopsided grin.

“You okay here?” Tony asked huskily, looking around. Steve was the only one left on the bridge. 

“I’m good. Go.  Hold the perimeter,” Steve ordered.  Tony nodded sharply and took to the sky.  A few moments later, he heard Barton tell Steve there were people trapped in bank building, so of course, off Steve goes by himself, the idiot, disappearing into the bank.  It wasn't long before a loud explosion rocked the building, blowing out the windows and sending glass and debris onto the street outside.  Well, glass, debris and one super-soldier, he amended, as he watched Steve get blasted out of the side of the building, landing heavily face down on top of a car. 

“Steve!?! You okay?” Tony shouted, as he watched him slowly, gingerly, pull himself up and off the car. 

“Not nearly as painful as when you told me that was all there was to Firefly,” Steve replied tightly. “I’m fine, Tony.”

“Yeah, that one’s a right bitch to hear. I could still fund a Kickstarter.  I’m just saying,” Tony replied.

“Yet another reason to live, then,” Steve suggested. Tony flew on, chasing down another of the leviathans and trying a laser booster on it to pretty much zero effect.

“Sir, we will lose power before you cut through that shell,” JARVIS informed him.

“JARVIS, you ever hear the tale of Jonah,” Tony asked.

“I wouldn’t consider him a role model,” JARVIS responded.

“Tony, absolutely not. You are not going to…just no, Tony,” Steve commanded. 

“You have a better idea?” Tony asked belligerently.

“Yes. Absolutely any idea in the known universe but the one where the giant alien space slug eats you,” Steve replied. 

“Well, when you say it like that, it just sounds bad,” Tony admitted.

“Because it is bad,” Steve responded. “Tony, do not get eaten by the giant alien space slug.  Despite saying those actual words, I’m being completely serious here.”

“You make it sound like such a reasonable request, how could I say no?” Tony asked with false calmness. This probably was an incredibly stupid idea, to be honest. 

“You’re going to ignore me, aren’t you?” Steve replied, clearly annoyed and possibly even worried. That was a rather nice thought, though Tony was self-aware enough to know that he probably shouldn’t find it so nice.  But worry meant caring and caring meant…well, not not-caring.  So, there was that.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite make out that last part. I was making an “eat me” sign for the suit,” Tony chuckled with false bravado, as the leviathan opened wide and he flew straight in, shooting everything he has as he shot down the thing’s gullet, blasting out the other end.  He smashed into the street, the momentum of his fall sending him rolling.  The wind was knocked out of him, so he couldn’t get enough air to form words to respond to Steve’s panicked calls right away.  He looked up to see a band of Chitauri soldiers advancing, rifles held high.  Crap. 

“I—“ Tony coughed, trying to force air back into his lungs. “I’m okay.  Just…just give me a minute,” Tony finally choked out trying to silence Steve’s increasingly worried shouts in his ear. 

“Stark!” Fury’s voice reverberated through the helmet. “You hearing me?  We have a missile headed straight for the city.”

 _You have just got to be fucking kidding me_ , Tony thought.  “How long?” he asked Fury.

“Three minutes at best. Stay low and wipe out the missile,” Fury directed.  The Chitauri soldiers continued to advance to where Tony lay like a red and gold beached whale on the street. 

“JARVIS, put everything into the thrusters,” Tony ordered.

“I just did,” JARVIS replied, as Tony shot into the sky. A few moments later, yep, sure enough, there’s the WSC’s well thought out nuclear deterrent headed right for midtown.  Widow’s voice echoed through the comm, saying she could close the portal. 

“Do it,” he heard Steve shout, could hear the relief in his voice, the holy-fuck we might actually win this one relief you can’t say out loud yet.

“No, wait!” Tony shouted.

“Hold off, Nat. What is it, Tony?  These things are still coming,” Steve responded. 

“I got a nuke coming in. It’s gonna blow in less than a minute.  And I know just where to put it,” Tony said, catching up to the missile and grabbing it from behind. 

“You—a nuke? You what?” he heard Steve sputter. “Tony…can’t you…I don’t know, just point it at the portal?”

“Won’t work. It’s locked on its target.  The only thing keeping it from detonating on top of you and the rest of New York is, well, me, putting it somewhere useful,” Tony replied. 

“There has to be another way,” Steve said firmly.

“You think of one. I’ll be sending a little Welcome to Earth present to our new friends,” Tony answered, zipping towards the portal.  

“Tony…” Steve’s voice came soft and thick, like it was stuck on Tony’s name.

“JARVIS, take us off the party line, would you?” Tony asked. “Steve…there really isn’t any other way.  I’m a genius and can’t think of one, and trust me, I have all the motivation in the world right now.”  Tony could practically hear the gears turning in Steve’s head, trying to think of something, some way this could work the way it had all seemed to be working just moments ago, a way to save everyone that didn’t exist. 

“You and I both know this is a one way trip, so…” Tony cleared his suddenly dry throat. “So, ah.  Aw, fuck it, Steve, I don’t know what to say.  I don’t know how I screwed this all up so badly.  I mean, I do, about the whole not telling you the moment I had suspicions thing, I get that.  You were right about that.  I was being a selfish asshole.  I was happy and you were…you were just…everything was right.  For that one little bit of time, it…the whole thing…it was right, and I got greedy, and I’m sorry,” he finished.  He saw Widow down below, pointing Loki’s staff at the device Selvig had built to house the cube. 

“Tell her to close it as soon as I’m through,” Tony said, trying for calm fortitude, but not sure he managed it.

“JARVIS, save the rest of the suit’s power for the return,” Steve commanded.

“Love the optimism, Cap, but that’s now how this works,” Tony intoned as he flew through the portal into the infinite darkness beyond. “Look, I don’t even fucking care anymore, lie to me if you have to, just say something, whatever it is, just—“

“You gave me a home,” Steve said, voice thick and slightly slurred.

“Great. Well, yeah, free rent in Manhattan’s a great—“ Tony started, bitterness seeping off his tongue.  Because really? Really? That’s the best hoo-rah, good-job-soldier- speech Captain America could—

“I’m not—I haven’t had a home in years, not really. Not since Mom died, I guess.  Then there was the orphanage and the war and then…I mean a place…a place I could belong.  Where I wanted to be at the end of the day, where I could walk in and it was just…everything was…right.  That was you, Tony.  Not the Tower.  You. I thought…I thought I could just put the suit on again, pick up the shield and serve, but…I want to go home at the end of the day, and I can’t do that if you aren’t here, so…so I need you to figure something out, to make this work, because I don’t think I can—“ Steve’s voice cut off as Tony pushed the missile towards the rest of the Chitauri armada clustering together as they prepared to empty themselves through the portal.  

Tony closed his eyes as the suit quickly froze, becoming useless in a matter of seconds. The portal was collapsing beneath him while the nuke raced towards the oblivious Chitauri army.

_You gave me a home_

As these things went, Tony thought as the suit failed, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, quiet…kind of peaceful…He closed his eyes, the HUD blinking off and going black as light from the explosion filled his vision.

HOLY FUCK WHAT WAS THAT???? Something roared in his head, making his teeth chatter, sending great heaping breaths of air into his lungs and he was suddenly looking up at a smoke-filled blue sky  behind towering buildings and there was Steve, cowl pushed back, smiling down at him, a real smile this time, one that actually reached his eyes, and Tony didn’t think he’d seen that since before the stupid compass and he was obviously never giving Steve anything ever again, except for all the things he needed to give him, because Steve was smiling and they had a home and it was possible he was suffering from some kind of delirium…

“What the hell? What just happened?” Tony asked, looking around at the rest of the Avengers.  “Did you kiss me?  Was it like a Sleeping Beauty thing?  Or Snow White. Wait, why am I the girl?  No way I’m Snow White, I’m just saying.”

“We won, Tony,” Steve answered, still grinning like a fool. “You did it.”

“Alright,” Tony said, giving a rather stunted nod since he was still lying prone on the ground in the suit. “Hey, alright.  Good job, guys.  Let’s just not come in tomorrow.  Let’s just take a day…”  Later, Tony wasn’t really sure what he said.  Did he talk about shawarma?  That was…well, quite the non sequitur.  He wasn’t even sure what that was.  But hell, Steve liked pretty much any food. They should get food.  Was it meat of some kind?

To be fair, he probably had a concussion.

“We’re not finished yet,” Thor said, looking up at the Tower.

Tony mumbled something else about the shawarma. Steve just gave him an odd look and reached out a hand to help him up, since the suit was pretty much scrap by now. Tony thought about Steve’s reaction to the barbell that day in the gym and pretended not to be impressed by the fact that he could just so casually pull Tony and five hundred pounds of suit up.

They trudged as a group past destroyed cars, glass, debris, still steaming piles of leviathan, Chitauri soldiers who had conveniently dropped dead once cut off from the rest of their armada. No POW issues for them, Tony supposed.  God, someone was going to have to clean all this shit up.  Not to mention that there was a lot of alien tech just—“Oooh, grab that gun for me, would you?” Tony asked. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. will collect the weaponry and other classified materials and oversee the decontamination and clean-up process,” Widow informed him. Steve picked up the rifle and handed it to Tony without breaking stride.  Tony resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.  Mostly. 

They made it to the Tower without encountering anyone else. Thor used his hammer to fly to the top and he supposed, have a little brotherly chat with Loki before the rest of them got up there.  His suit was too damaged for him to fly, so that meant the old-fashioned way. Then things got really fun.  The only working elevator was the freight elevator, which had Hulk bending low and curling himself inside, despite Tony’s attempts to convince him to go full on King Kong and scale the Tower with Widow in his hand.  That didn’t go over particularly well, but Widow and Barton squeezed in with Hulk, Barton smirking and Widow glowering and Hulk shouting “up!” over and over like the world’s biggest toddler.  They were probably going to have to buy him an ice cream. Store.

“Yeah, we’ll just get the next one,” Tony called unnecessarily as the elevator doors squeezed shut, casting a glance at Steve, who hadn’t said a word since telling Tony they’d won. And then the part where Steve had kind of given him credit for that win.  Wasn’t like Tony hadn’t noticed that.  Wasn’t like Tony hadn’t thought that maybe, something like that, flying a nuke into a portal in space, you know…could change a guy’s views about whether someone was a hero or not.  For example.  Of one possible outcome.  Not that he expected Steve to just throw himself at Tony or anything.  Just because Tony was his home…didn’t mean the guy was just suddenly going to want to take a quick trip to the courthouse or anything.  Again, as one _possible_ example. 

When the elevator finally came back down for them, he stepped in and stood silently next to Steve. This thing…whatever this thing was or might be or even could be…was still very fragile.  He knew he was on some kind of weird high, giddy and punch-drunk on something that was probably survival and happiness and being someone’s home and yeah, that was a thing, and other, deeper things he didn’t really want to pick apart.  He knew they had some rebuilding to do.  And Steve had a lot of things to work though, if they were ever going to have any kind of real chance, but dammit, they’d been happy once, before the Forties and responsibility and a uniform that meant something intruded.  He just needed to tread carefully, for now.  Give Steve time.  Let things happen without pushing, without expectations.  That was all very, very true.  So very true. 

In all honestly, he couldn’t say later who moved first, standing there side by side in the elevator, Steve’s jaw hard, body wound tight with tension, every fiber of Tony’s being vibrating with want and need and the looping commentary in his head that kept telling him what he wanted to hear, that Steve had said Tony was his home, that Steve had kept talking, had almost said something more, probably did, except for the whole freezing in a wormhole in space losing the transmission, so he really wasn’t sure who actually got their hands on who first, but he was sure it was him that hit he emergency stop button on the elevator, and he was pretty sure it was him that finally found the zipper on Steve’s suit, because Steve was probably pretty flexible, but that would be no small feat. It might have been Steve who grabbed the helmet from Tony’s hands and threw it against the floor so hard it dented the alloy.  It was probably Tony that tossed the shield aside, making it spin like a quarter while he tried to peel the uniform off Steve’s shoulders without tearing it.  He thought he found Steve’s mouth first, pushing his tongue in, swiping deep, warring with Steve’s as he pressed him against the side of the elevator car.  He could do that in the suit, had the height and strength advantage he didn’t normally have.  So it was probably him that pushed Steve into the emergency call button, leading a disembodied voice telling them the circuits were overloaded and their call would be answered in the order it was received. But it was definitely Steve that slammed Tony into the elevator door leaving an Iron Man-shaped dent as he stuck his tongue down Tony’s throat. 

And Tony was absolutely certain it was Steve that broke off one of the handrails that circled the interior of the elevator, but since Tony had his mouth around the head of Steve’s cock at the time, he figured that was at least half on him.

They made themselves presentable and Tony hit the emergency stop button again, sending the elevator climbing towards the penthouse once more. It occurred to him that one, he was about to face the alien demi-god that had nearly destroyed the planet in a fit of pique with a raging erection and two, Steve still hadn’t said anything to him.  Well, technically, Steve had called out his name a few times and may have requested the intercession of a higher power.  A couple of times, kudos to Tony and his non-existent gag reflex.  But, he hadn’t actually talked to Tony about anything that had been said or maybe desperately needed to be said. 

They joined the rest of the Avengers to Widow’s smirk, Barton’s raised eyebrows, Thor’s complete obliviousness and Loki’s knowing grin. At least Hulk just lightly thumped Tony’s suit and cracked a wide smile.  He wasn’t sure what to do with that.  They stared down at Loki as a team, Tony finding it rather anti-climatic when Loki just raised his hands in surrender.  They all sat around rather awkwardly afterwards, taking turns glowering at Loki and waiting on S.H.I.E.L.D. to show up.  Barton suggested Uno, but only Hulk looked excited by the prospect and Tony didn’t want to see what happened if he got a Draw Four card.  By the time Fury finally showed, transferring Loki to S.H.I.E.L.D. custody until they could get something rigged up using the cube to send him and Thor back to Asgard, everyone was exhausted and hungry, which somehow led to the entire team actually taking Tony’s rambling seriously and ending up chowing down at a shawarma place down on Eighth while the proprietors tried to clean up some of the destruction. 

Thor devoured whatever was put in front of him, to the surprise of no one. Bruce, who had de-hulked, was starving from the calories it took to handle that kind of body metamorphosis.   Steve could always eat anything and Barton was surprisingly fastidious, pushing the meat around his plate with a fork.  Natasha demolished everything on her plate and asked for seconds, though for the life of him, Tony couldn’t figure out where it went.  They were mostly silent during the meal, at least until Bruce started laughing, trying desperately to hold it in or cover his mouth with his hand, but largely finding the attempt completely unsuccessful. 

“You should’ve seen him…after the Other Guy got a hold of him, I mean…” Bruce said, shaking his head. “Puny god,” he chuckled.  And then Barton was cackling like a madman, Nat had buried her head on the table, shoulders shaking, and Thor’s booming laughter echoed around the restaurant.  Tony caught Steve’s eye across the table, feeling ridiculous sitting there in the useless suit, wanting nothing more than to just get back to the Tower, shower and change and sleep for probably three days, preferably curled around Steve, but suddenly finding himself grinning and laughter pouring out of him, probably all of them choosing this over sobbing, let’s face it.  Steve was doubled over, holding his face in his hands, shaking with mirth.  They’d probably claim later that they became a team when Steve got them all working together to protect the city, but Tony knew it was then, sitting in the shawarma restaurant, laughing like loons when they actually became Avengers.

It was also the first time he let himself actually think the words, _God help me,_ _I’m in love with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and kudo-ing. I appreciate you sticking with this one. I think it is almost done, and my personal head canon is that they move right into the events of the other story I'm working on, Shattered, because I need them to be schmoopy and happy dammit! Thank you again, dear readers. It means the world.


	17. Chapter 17

After they finished their shawarma, Tony left an I.O.U. on the counter for the rather shell-shocked owners. The team made their way back to the Tower’s lobby, encountering a few more people this time, as New Yorkers slowly ventured out to start cleaning up or at least take photos for Instagram and Facebook. Power was out in most of downtown, but the Tower’s self-sustaining arc reactor was once again a marvel of modern technology instead of a useful irony for alien wannabe kings. 

The military and National Guard had arrived, setting up a perimeter around the areas most affected by the invasion. Jets flew overhead.  Emergency crews were on the scene already, a line of ambulances with opened bay doors waiting to load wounded.  Tony spotted a couple of large tractor trailers in the distance, volunteers with their white aprons marked with the red cross already starting to hand out supplies.  Despite the flight ban in the area, news crews had arrived and helicopters dotted the skyline from behind whatever arbitrary line in the sky someone had drawn.  No doubt, some of the color commentators were busy praising the new team of apparent superheroes who had saved the city, while others questioned the motives behind this supposed intervention and just how closely they were tied with the alien army, which had, after all, featured the pseudo-brother of one of the Avengers and had chosen Tony’s Tower as his base.  So, basically, things were getting back to normal.

The team was dragging, walking slowly and heavily, everyone basically two steps from just dropping to the ground and sleeping where they lay. Tony hadn’t realized how tired he was until he was full and the adrenaline finally sloughing out of his system.  Some people raised hands to them as they passed, someone patted Tony’s shoulder at one point.  He thought he heard a few shouts in their direction, but for the most part, they were simply let alone to stagger around the debris and detritus for which they were at least in someway responsible. 

Thor was asking Bruce something about getting Loki back to Asgard using the cube. Barton and Widow were discussing something to do with Budapest and either goulash or gulag. Really, with the two of them, it could be either.  Steve spoke briefly to one of the military commanders that approached him, actually thanking the man for getting there so quickly to help, which in Tony’s opinion was only true if you expanded the definition of ‘quickly’ to include right after everything was already handled.

With the exception of their moment of shared camaraderie at the shawarma joint, Steve had barely glanced his way, let alone said anything directly to Tony. He was trying to not be hurt by that, trying to understand that they were all beyond exhausted and still processing the events of the day, but having him right there ignoring Tony was far worse than waiting by a silent phone. It felt harsher, an open wound that someone kept picking at, because he was just.right.there.  Close enough to touch, but miles away from anything Tony could possibly reach. 

After all, the crisis had passed. Things said or done in the heat of the moment…it happened, right?  Hell, he’d told Steve to lie to him as he carried the nuke through the portal.  Maybe he had.  Maybe he’d wanted to make sure Tony at least tried to make it back.  Take one for the team and all that. A white lie for a good cause.  The thing in the elevator…well, who didn’t love a good blow job?  Attraction between them had never been the issue anyway.  Post-battle high.  Heat of the moment, blah, blah, blah.  Of course, Tony had to go read more into things than had been intended.  And wasn’t that the ultimate irony? Tony thinking a one-time thing meant something.  He was sure JARVIS had a list somewhere of one-night stands that would probably find all of this very amusing, not to mention a bit of much deserved karmic retribution.

Tony grew steadily more annoyed at the whole being ignored thing with each step back to the Tower. True, now probably wasn’t a good time to talk it out anyway.  They were all too wrung out from everything that had happened the past couple of days, particularly Steve, who had the double-whammy of getting his memories back and having to deal with Loki’s shit all at one time.  Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when Steve wouldn’t even look at him. 

When they arrived at the Tower, Thor bid them a very hearty farewell to head to S.H.I.E.L.D. and babysit Loki until Selvig completed the interdimensional device that would use the cube to send both Thor and Loki back to face Asgardian justice. Barton and Widow went with him, since they both had their own small units on the helicarrier, probably filled with secret spy things.  Tony invited Bruce back to the Tower, since it wasn’t like Bruce had a place to go.  Or clothes.  He’d borrowed some of Tony’s after de-hulking, but they all needed a shower and rest.  It was the least he could do after the guy saved him from a freefall from a space portal, after all.

And then there was Steve…who offered a goodbye to Widow and Barton as they left, telling them they couldn’t have done it without them, and put on a slightly shaky smile through Thor’s giant bear hug and shout of “Captain!” without a comment beyond to let him know when Selvig had the device ready. Tony wasn’t the only one eager to see Loki go…anywhere but Earth.  The three of them rode up the freight elevator, Tony trying to catch Steve’s eye over Bruce’s head, but Steve was studiously watching the floor indicator lights as the elevator rose and rather noticeably not looking at Tony.

They stumbled out the elevator doors into the rather wrecked living room area, Tony grunting and pointing Bruce towards a room down the hall to which he retreated at something only slightly less than a run. Bruce was fairly perceptive like that.

“So…ah. Guess you can use your old room.  If you want, I mean,” Tony offered, feeling stupid standing there willing Steve to ask to come to Tony’s room, like he’d done once before when he’d come back to the Tower after their disastrous dance. 

Steve nodded in reply and turned to head down the hall.

“So, that’s it, huh? You’re just gonna sleep it off and, what?” Tony asked, since that was as close as he could come to ‘will you stay with me now that we had our little moment in the elevator, and, remember how you said I was your home, so that has to mean something, right?’

“We still have to make sure Loki gets off without another problem.  I don’t think I’ll trust that this is done until I see him gone.  There’s going to be a lot of cleaning up to do around the city.  I’m sure I can find a way to help.  After that…Maybe take some time.  Figure things out.  What I...I’ll need to…have a talk with Fury.  Then…then, I guess I don’t know,” Steve said flatly.  It was a perfectly logical, completely reasonable, hell, probably even sensible response.  Take some time.  Think things through.  What had Phil said?  Let him get his head straight.  Sure.  Made total sense.  Except that Steve was staring down the hallway towards his old room, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here next to Tony and that was just about all Tony could take considering he’d been on his knees in front of the guy a couple hours ago.  Being ignored was one thing. Being basically told to fuck off, he wasn’t needed anymore, now that the high of battle was over, while standing stupidly in useless armor in his own living room, was a bit beyond the pale. 

“Great. Fantastic idea.  You do that, Steve.  You go.  Figure things out or whatever euphemism you want to use for get the fuck away from here.  Didn’t think I’d see the day when Captain America could just come down a guy’s throat, shake his hand and ride off into the sunset, but, hey, I’ve seen a lot fucked up shit today, so why not one more thing?” Tony spat out bitterly, practically vibrating with anger.  Steve winced and flushed a furious shade of red, but still didn’t look at Tony, didn’t argue, just took it.  Maybe he at least knew he deserved that one.  “Guess things really have changed,” Tony said evenly, trying to keep it an accusation instead of a plea.  He gave it a beat to see if Steve would contradict him, would say he misunderstood, would say it meant something to him, too, that he hadn’t lied, that this was real, but it didn’t come, just silence and resolutely looking anywhere but Tony.  Tony tossed his hands in the air as he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he made his way to the penthouse living area where he could finally get out of this fucking suit and get a fucking drink.

He trudged to the spinning gauntlet to get the armor off, which turned out to be more complicated than usual, since apparently, somehow, the shoulder joints had gotten squeezed together and wouldn’t disengage like they were supposed to. _Wonder how that had happened_ , Tony thought with a grimace, as one of the robot arms tugged, recalling strong hands gripping his shoulders as he knelt.  There were probably corresponding bruises from metal hands lacing Steve’s hips, which was totally wrong to be turned on by, obviously.  Obviously.  Particularly at this point, since Steve had basically told him he planned to get as far away from Tony as he could.  Yep.  Wrong. 

But he found himself thinking of Steve pulling the suit off and finding a matching set of purpling finger marks on each hip, felt his own body responding to the image. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Tony told himself in exasperation.  He wondered, briefly before discarding the idea as ridiculous, what would happen if he walked down the hall to Steve’s room, climbed in the shower with him, wrapped his body around Steve’s, put his hands over the marks he’d left earlier.  He could do that, and thought it wasn’t total hubris to think that Steve might let him.  Not like the guy hadn’t enjoyed getting sucked off earlier, after all, Tony thought, recalling how it had felt watching Steve as he threw his head back against the elevator wall, one harm crooked over his face, one arm gripping the about to be a casualty elevator handlebar, panting heavily as Tony swallowed his length down, feeling the tip bump the back of his throat and he had been the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen, and Tony couldn’t remember when he’d felt that alive, everything crystallized and clear and focused and just _Steve_.

Of course, that had been an illusion, something Tony’s desperate mind had drug up from its depths of self-delusion. Show him what you could make him feel, and he’ll stay.  Steve clearly regretted what had happened  in the elevator, heat of the moment, post-battle adrenaline, blah, blah, what the fuck ever, and Tony found he wasn’t quite so desperate as to throw himself at a guy who made himself that plain about what he wanted out of this.  Well, not again, anyway.  Which was not Tony, so time to move the fuck on.  “Cold shower it is then,” he said as the robot arm gave a sharp, twisting jerk to the final shoulder piece and it finally disengaged, leaving Tony armor-free for the first time in what seemed like ages. 

He made his way to his private bathroom, shedding the rest of his clothes on the bedroom floor as he went. The cold shower did what it was supposed to do, and it did feel absurdly good to be clean again, he had to admit.  He toweled off and threw on a clean pair of jeans and his favorite AC/DC t-shirt before sitting down in one of the armchairs and plopping his feet on the table.  He turned on the television to catch up on the news.  When he startled awake who knew how long later, a blanket of infinite stars blinking behind his eyelids as he rubbed his knuckles over them, Anderson Cooper was muted on the screen pointing at a dead leviathan behind him while hazmat crews tried to clean up and game-faced New Yorkers took selfies. 

“How long was I out, JARVIS?” Tony asked, stretching, and fuck, he was sore everywhere. Happens when you keep hitting the pavement, he supposed. 

“You slept for approximately one hour and thirteen minutes,” JARVIS informed him. He was a little surprised it hadn’t been longer, though it was probably a good thing to try to get on a somewhat regular sleep schedule.  Of course, the only time in decades he had a somewhat regular sleep schedule was when he’d been curling up next to Steve, managing to sleep through the night for the first time since…well.  So, yeah, a short nap was probably good.  The room was still dark, the flickering screen offering the only light.  He wondered briefly what had woken him, glancing towards the bedroom door for a moment thinking (hoping) maybe Steve had knocked, but everything was quiet.  He scrubbed his face with his hands, running them through his hair, which probably wasn’t helping considering he’d slept on it wet and rocked himself out of the chair, switching off the TV as he stood.  “Anything going on I need to deal with right now, J?” Tony asked, picking up his tablet and scrolling through the headlines.  Avengers bad, Avengers good, Avengers evil government conspiracy, Avengers representatives of the oppressed peoples of the world…blah, blah, blah.  The usual.

“There is a considerable amount of news activity on the Avengers and your involvement, Sir. I’ve taken the liberty of sending a few of the articles to your private email, along with relevant summaries of others.  In addition, the Mayor’s office has already contacted Stark Industries about clean-up activities and Ms. Potts said she would coordinate everything and you are to, and I quote, “keep your ass in bed for at least three days, absolutely no arguments, Tony,”’ JARVIS replied primly, as Tony grinned, setting down the tablet and looking at the bedroom door again before catching himself and realizing what he was doing.

“Also, the shower in Captain Rogers’ room has been running continuously for the past fifty-seven minutes,” JARVIS said, causing Tony’s head to snap up.

“What? Is he—“ Tony stuttered out, already striding towards the door without thinking about what exactly he was planning to do. People showered.  People took long showers.  People who had just fought an alien army probably took really long showers.  Steve had loved the shower in Tony’s room, sure.  Tony had teased him about it, offered to buy scented shower gels and candles.  But fifty-seven minutes…and he hadn’t said much, really, since Tony crashed out of the portal beyond telling him they’d won and telling Tony to essentially fuck off, he didn’t need him. 

They’d all been tired, sure, but thinking about it, everyone else had talked over their meal, poked fun at each other, made some mention of the clean-up or the aftermath, bitched about debriefings, something. Except Steve. Why hadn’t that raised more of a red flag? Because Tony had been more concerned about what his dick was thinking than what Steve was thinking? And then when they made it back to the Tower, had he asked if Steve was okay, injured, freaked out?  No.  As soon as Steve had made it clear he wasn’t interested in anything beyond their elevator quickie, he’d told him to fuck off and had essentially run out of the room. Steve didn’t want him, so let him deal with…whatever it was he was dealing with. 

What if…God, he’d thought about, wondered, earlier, that dark thing skating around the back of his mind that he didn’t want to think about, and hadn’t Steve said he was angry about being here, losing so much, and fucking hell, there was the thing with Barnes that for Steve, had just happened, his parents’ graves were a condo, everyone was gone, everything was different and there was the little thing of remembering drowning ( _colddarkwater_ ) and, Jesus fucking Christ, had anyone even so much as asked him if he wanted to this or just handed him the shield and pointed him at the bad guy? 

Sure, Steve had joked with him during the battle, had seemed more himself since they’d met in Stuttgart, but didn’t they say that people were happier after they made a…well, a permanent decision, just for having made a choice? Fuck. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ And he’d been pissed because he wasn’t going to get laid.  He’d behaved just like Steve had once accused, playing the hero when there was the possibility of something in it for him, cutting and running as soon as he realized there wasn’t.  Because when it came down to it, the reason Steve’s accusations in the lab had hurt so much was that they were close enough to the truth that Tony could recognize himself in them, even if he didn’t want to see. 

They’d all, Tony head of the line, been happy to let Steve make the hard calls, deal with the trapped people, decide how much of a perimeter to give these things to run in, probably no one but Steve thinking about the people trapped inside that perimeter, let Steve decide when to close the portal, and what would that have done to Tony if their positions had been reversed? Hell, he didn’t even know if he could’ve actually done it, and then the elevator and that was clearly not the norm, come on, Tony should’ve seen that, should’ve known something was off, and there were pills and there were sharp things and who the fuck knew what it would take anyway, and Tony was yanking the door open and running across the penthouse and down the hall to the guest rooms before his mind was able to complete that line of thought.

Steve’s door was locked, but Tony had the override code, so he tapped that in and pushed the door open in a rush, glancing around the room and absently noting Steve’s uniform carefully folded on the bed, boots on the floor, shined now, and the shield leaning carefully against the bed next to the boots. It, too, had been polished.  There was something about that sight that was somehow heartbreaking.  These were the things he had, the few things that were actually his, and he took care with them, took care of them before he took care of himself. Not like Tony, who left his detritus all over without a care, it could always be replaced, after all.  Everything was replaceable, until you found something that wasn’t.

As he crossed the bedroom, Tony’s mind flashed to the events of the past day, how Steve was the first one of them to step up there in Stuttgart, even having no idea what he’d be facing, and it had been Steve who had worried about the crowd, making sure they were safe, and Steve who was the last one to leave the battle when all was said and done. It had been Steve who had made sure everyone else on the team was alright, moving silently between them, eyes watchful as Bruce tended wounds, and, fuck, had anyone of them asked about him?  He couldn’t remember.  They’d all be so out of it.  Hell, even at the shawarma joint, Steve had gotten his plate last after everyone else had piled their’s high.  Steve had waited until everyone else had headed off to their own respective places before following Tony, because that was just what Steve did, went last, waited, made sure the team was taken care of before making a choice for himself, and that had been what Tony had missed before, what Steve had been trying to say without saying it.  Captain America meant something, was something, an idea more than just a person, and that idea and what it meant came first, and if there was a choice to be made, Steve was going to choose that, of course he was.  Who wouldn’t?  It was sitting right there against the bed, shined and polished and folded.  First.  That comes first.  To serve, he’d said.  And Tony?  He’d already lost before he even understood the rules.  The shield, the uniform, the symbol would always be more important than anything, anyone.  Of course it was.  It honestly didn’t even hurt, it was just so obvious, so clear.

Tony heard the water from the shower running, the bathroom light shining a stripe under the door. He forced himself to take a calming breath before stepping over to knock.  “Steve?” he called, tapping lightly.  “You okay in there?”  When Steve didn’t immediately respond, he knocked harder, using the flat of his hand, because really, privacy was fast becoming the very last of his concerns. 

“Steve!?! Answer me!  Aw fuck it, I’m coming in,” Tony shouted through the door, opening it as he finished his sentence. The bathroom was full of steam, the mirror and glass shower door fogged over, but he could see Steve’s shape sitting on the floor of the shower, hunched over and Tony was tearing open the shower door and kneeling down beside him before he could form any kind of thought, let alone offer a warning.  The water was hot, even through his clothes, as he knelt on the tile by Steve, letting the water soak his clothes as steam billowed out the opened shower door. 

Tony’s eyes raked over Steve’s frame, but he didn’t see anything wrong. Steve was breathing, no signs of blood other than the wounds he’d sustained during the battle, long scrapes that were already healing.  His skin was red from the heat of the water, but otherwise, he looked to be just sitting, head bowed while the water rushed over him. 

“Are you…are you okay?” Tony asked lamely, heart trying to return to something of a normal rhythm and realizing that maybe he’d overreacted a bit here and had barged in on Steve just enjoying a long shower after, you know, battling an invading alien army and perhaps that was the more logical explanation than…well…what Tony had thought, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out and running worried hands over Steve’s arms, reaching out to cup his head and lift his chin up so Steve’s dark blue eyes were finally looking at Tony. He felt a moment of ridiculousness, sitting there next to Steve naked in the shower while Tony was fully clothed and now soaked and obviously having misread the entire situation and—

“I couldn’t get warm,” Steve said, voice flat, and Tony almost didn’t catch it over the susurration of the shower and his own distracted mental ramblings. “I can’t do this.  I thought I could, that it would be like before, but…” Steve shook his head.  “It’s not.”  He raised his eyes to Tony’s, searching, beseeching.  “It was enough.  It was an honor, I was finally able to do something…to help.  The rest…it was okay.  This was enough.  And now it’s not, and I don’t know how to do this,” Steve said, shaking his head.  Tony honestly wasn’t following Steve’s train of thought, hands drawing back from Steve’s warm skin and stuttering uselessly in midair, managing to catch only the spray of the shower. 

“Steve…” Tony started, not at all sure what he was going to do here.

“I thought the serum would fix this. And then it would be so easy. Everything was going to be easy, but then it didn’t, but it was enough and I was happy.  I was helping, stopping Hydra, and that was…that was enough.  It was my choice, and I was happy with it, I wouldn’t change it, never wanted to.  It was…amazing, getting to do that, to help, to serve, to be a part of something like that…and then I was done, and it was okay, I was okay with that because it meant something, but then there’s you, and I thought you died and—“ Steve continued, staring at the opened shower door instead of Tony, droplets of the shower spray clinging to his eyelashes or at least, Tony hoped that’s what it was because he couldn’t think about it being anything else. 

“You…look at me, Steve,” Tony insisted, pulling Steve’s jaw around so his eyes were finally looking at Tony. “There is nothing wrong with you. Not a fucking thing.  You’re…God, you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.  I hated my Dad, well, for a lot of reasons, but I thought he was full of utter shit about you.  No one could be…this…but you are.  You just are, and it…I’m humbled by it, and believe me, that takes a fucking lot, Steve.  And there was nothing to fix, Steve.  There was never anything to fix, Tony repeated.  “And you don’t have to choose.  Okay, maybe then you did, I get that, but you don’t now, you don’t have to choose between anything, between being you or being Captain America because you…you are Captain America and everything that means, it’s you.  It’s not the uniform or the shield.  Any other guy gets that serum and you get God only knows what.  It had to be you. You don’t have to choose,” Tony reiterated numbly, his gut clenching in waves of nausea at how this must feel for Steve and how much he’d let himself overlook or just flat out ignore.

“It’s just…I think I already did,” Steve breathed out, staring at Tony. It took Tony a moment.  It probably said something about his own neuroses that it took Steve pulling his head down and kissing him, moving his mouth across Tony’s, tongue probing delicately at Tony’s mouth before Tony’s brain actually caught up.  The shield. The polished boots. The folded uniform.  Steve hadn’t been choosing serving, being Captain America, over being Steve.  Steve had been carefully saying goodbye to that part of himself.  Steve had chosen Tony.

_Steve had chosen Tony._

Over being Captain America.

Tony’s mind stuttered to a halt, the whole thing just completely not computing, though, thankfully, his mouth kept right on melting into Steve’s as if it knew exactly what to do even if Tony’s brain had gone totally offline. The idea of it, of Steve even thinking he had to choose, but…well, it wasn’t like there wasn’t something to that, even in these times.  It was one thing for Tony to say ‘fuck ‘em’ to anyone who had an issue with who he slept with, but it was legitimately probably another thing entirely for Captain America to do the same.  _We can't....they'll know_...Maybe Steve understood more than Tony did about exactly what carrying the shield entailed, what it meant doing without and what it meant getting in return. 

Which was apparently worth giving up. For Tony.  For a moment, he honestly didn’t know what to do with that.  No one had ever picked him before, put him first, chosen him.  He didn’t know how he was supposed to react.  It didn’t seem real, like if he acknowledged it, it would disappear into the ether or someone would let him in on the joke or maybe he’d just wake up, but kissing Steve, Steve’s mouth warm and wet and eager under his, that was real, so maybe some of the rest of it was, too.  He had to know, had to be sure, he’d misread so much, let his own wants and needs drive him for so long.  He couldn’t be wrong about this.  He didn’t think he could handle it if he got this wrong.  Tony forced himself to pull back by some depth of will he didn’t know until now that he possessed, cave and tub of water be damned, _this_ fucking took determination.

“Steve. God, Steve,” Tony breathed out, but that was all he managed before he was crushing Steve’s mouth to his again. Eh, willpower was overrated.  When he finally came up for air, he tried again to make this all make some kind of sense, because it just didn’t, there was nothing about this that made any kind of sense and if he could just think, just think for a minute, he could figure it out. That would require some blood flowing to his brain though, so jury was still out.

“I thought…when you went through the portal…and I thought I lost you, and I couldn’t…I can’t. I need this.  You.  The other…I thought it was more important, maybe it is and I’m just selfish, but I can’t—“ Steve choked out, hands roaming over Tony as if memorizing him.  “Everything else….if I have to live without that, then I can do that.  This is my choice, Tony. I can’t do this without you.”

“Steve, Jesus, I—I don’t even know—I swear to God, you don’t have to choose. You are Captain America. You, Steve.  And they can’t take that away from you, and fuck them if they so much as try,” Tony vowed.  “I won’t let you do this.  So, just.  No choosing.  It doesn’t—I mean, not that I…well, that you would, I mean, that’s…I don’t even know what that is.  No one has ever done that, so don’t think that I—I mean if it were you or Iron Man, have some kind of giant armor Bonfire Night, don’t get me wrong, I get it, I do, I swear, just.  No, we—you—fuck it, we—aren’t doing this. Not for them, those bullying assholes and their small, cruel minds, just no.  We—we can have both, Steve, I swear to God, and I’m not saying it won’t be hard or painful or all of that, but I’m saying it will be worth it.  If you’ll give me a chance, I swear, I’ll make it worth it, Steve, just let me—“ Tony stammered, hands gripping Steve’s shoulders as the shower sprayed down, wrapping around him and pulling him closer, cradling Steve’s bigger frame and rocking gently back and forth.  “Just let me try, Steve.  We’ll do this.  Together.  I think we can do anything, you and me.  This…this…here…this is the most important thing.  Us.  Choose us, Iron Man and Captain America, and Tony and Steve, and choose us. Choose this.  Please, I’m begging, Steve, we can do this, I swear, we can--” Tony choked off, forcing himself to stop and take a deep breath as he scrubbed rivulets of water off his face and ran a hand through his wet hair, plastering it to his head.

“Steve,” Tony said, running a tentative hand down Steve’s back, tracing the path of the shower’s spray. “I don’t pretend to know how to do this, but I’m a fucking genius, and believe me when I say that I have never wanted to figure anything out more. And we will figure this out, together, I swear.  And we will never so much as look at another compass because they’re really outdated anyway, and you never have to go near the pool, and I’ll buy that stupid condo building and tear it the fuck down, and we’ll get therapists, I mean, hell, Pepper’s been trying to get me to go for years, and we’ll, I don’t know, read books about chicken soup and our souls, and talk about our feelings, have some Chai tea, a huge bag of weed, some bongo drums maybe, tell everyone the ink blots all look like dicks, hell, I don’t know.  But the point is, I—we—will figure it out together.  I’m not saying it will be easy or that it won’t hurt like hell at times, but it will be worth it,” Tony vowed, splaying his hands along both sides of Steve’s jaw and tipping his head back, bringing Steve’s eyes to his. 

Tony let his hands fall to his sides as Steve’s head lolled back against the tiled wall of the shower. His eyes were closed, but there was a tenseness to the set of his jaw and shift of his muscles that belied his listless posture.     “I’ve never walked away from a fight worth fighting, Tony.  I’m not about to do that now, not with this.  But…the uniform. Captain  America…that belongs to something greater than me.  I don’t get to use that, Tony.  Not to make this easier to get what I want.  Not to hide behind,” Steve said. 

“No hiding, Steve. No using.  We can do this, I swear to you, Steve,” Tony repeated, making it a promise, willing Steve to believe in him enough to give him this chance to make this right.  “Just…just, and I know I haven’t exactly earned it, but just trust me on this.  Besides, I’d like to see those WSC bastards even try to take the shield away, and really, I know for an absolute fact I can make a better uniform than that one, no offense to Coulson, but I’ve given your uniform a fair amount of thought over the years, granted, most of which is not really applicable to our current situation, but still.  Genius, here.  But those things aren’t what make Captain America, and no one can make what does, because that’s you.  It has to be you.  This whole thing…this whole team thing, it doesn’t work without you.  That guy in the sketch you did?  I barely recognized him.  And I want that, Steve.  So very badly.  But it doesn’t work without you.  God help me, I don’t work without you.  I exist and I build and I fight and I try, but…it doesn’t work.  That’s all there is to it.  With you…I’m more.  I can feel it and…what I did…not telling you the moment I knew…I’m so, so sorry, Steve.  I know that’s not enough, but I hope…if you will let me….give me a chance to earn this…this incredible gift from you…I know…I know that I don’t deserve it.  I just hope you’ll let me try.  I’m not as good at—at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you.  And that’s the truth.  You can’t give this up, Steve.  You just can’t,” Tony finished.

“Some things are worth it, Tony,” Steve intoned firmly, brining his head around to look at Tony, blue eyes dark as they finally looked at him, and something inside Tony broke open, something he didn’t know had been sealed, closed and barricaded, some forgotten thing, dusty and corroded with disuse that was clawing its way out now, and it hurt, it hurt in a blinding, searing pain and he’d never felt this alive.

“Then fight for it. With me.  By me.  But…if you can’t…then…I’ll pile the armor next to the shield and send it all to Rhodey, so help me.  You wanna pick me?  Well, I fucking choose you, too, Steve Rogers, so there.  You’re stuck with me,” Tony ground out. 

Steve blinked at him for a moment before closing his eyes and letting out a long breath, head lolling back against the tiled wall of the shower. “Okay, Tony.  We’ll try it your way,” Steve agreed.

 “Huh?”  Tony asked, confused.  “Okay, yeah.  Good.  Good, um…so, we’ve agreed?” Tony questioned, off-kilter now, because that had been one hell of an emotional shower, _Jesus fuck_. 

“I don't want to walk away, put down the shield.  But...I can.  Walking away from you is the thing I can't do.  I know things have changed. I don’t know that they’ve changed as much as you hope they have, but…this is your world, your time.  I do trust you.  With--with everything.  This.  If you...If how I feel about the idea of you not being Iron Man is any indication of how you feel…well…I’m not.  I can't imagine that. This...it won’t be easy for me.  I don’t know how to do this. Any of it.  I don’t want to hurt you because of that, but…if you think there is a chance we can make this work…maybe…maybe it helps.  Others, I mean. Maybe we help.  I think…that would be something, Tony,” Steve acknowledged, because of course, Steve will stand in front and take the brunt of the scorn and criticism if it can help someone.  “I know we can save the world, Tony.  I don’t know if we can change it.  But…we can try.  Maybe that's something.  Maybe that's enough.”

Tony reached up to turn off the shower, the last vestiges dripping down as he leaned forward to place his forehead against Steve’s, wrapping his arms around the larger man, wanting nothing more than to make paper promises that everything would be alright, they'd succeed and be happy and it would all be easy.  "We'll make it mean something.  We'll make it enough," Tony promised.

“I’m warm now,” Steve said against, hot breath against Tony’s cheek. For some reason, that felt like more of a statement of intent than anything he’d said before. 

“Let’s get you out of here, okay?” Tony urged, as he opened the shower door and grabbed a towel off the bar. He handed it to Steve and took the other one for himself, though he was dripping a large, wet puddle on the floor, clothes utterly soaked and sticking to him.  Was there much worse in the world than wet jeans?  They made noise when he walked, for crying out loud.  Giving up, he kicked off his sopping shoes and shucked the rest of his clothes, which made a wet, plopping noise as they dropped to the tile.  He wrapped the towel around his hips and turned to find Steve staring at him intently, lips slightly parted and eyes dark, wide and dilated.

“You…ah, Jesus,” Tony panted, losing his breath. “I can’t…God, I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this, but we should get you dressed,” Tony attempted, as Steve stood up, the towel Tony had handed him falling to the floor of the shower stall.  “I’m obviously concussed. Ignore me, stay like that forever,” Tony corrected.

“Tony—“ Steve started, but quite unfortunately did not get to finish what Tony was sure was a very lovely thought, probably something profound, but he’d never know, sadly, what with his tongue stuck down Steve’s throat and all. Steve’s mouth opened under his as Tony tugged the hand he’d wound into the hair at Steve’s nape back, pulling Steve’s neck into an arch long enough to move down the line of his jaw, biting lightly as he went, following with sharp licks and rubbing his beard against the sensitive skin there, reveling in Steve’s groan.  He felt Steve’s hands wind their way up his back, scrabbling at skin, grasping under his arms to wrap around his shoulders and there were probably going to be handprints there tomorrow, but it was not possible for him to give less of a fuck as one of Steve’s hands moved down, fingers tracing lightly over Tony’s stomach and _ohpleasegodyes_ was Tony’s last coherent thought as Steve wrapped his large hand, still warm and wet from the shower, around Tony’s cock and began to stroke.  Tony braced his hands against the shower wall on either side of Steve’s shoulders and dipped his head to lean against Steve’s chest so he could look down, watching Steve’s hand move up and down his length. When Steve rubbed his thumb over the slit at the head, Tony gave a sharp cry and ground his head against Steve’s chest, hips bucking, ears ringing as he thrust up into Steve’s hand and this was really going to be over rather embarrassingly quickly, but Tony gave himself a pass because, really. Steve.  Before he knew it, he felt his balls tighten and was thrusting in hard, staccato movements into Steve’s hand as he swirled his palm around Tony’s cock, thumb still rubbing circles over the head, and then Tony’s vision blanked out, lights dancing behind his eyes, and he was coming in long, white ropes across Steve’s stomach, ears still ringing with…wait…the Pirates of Penzance?  Okay, that was odd. 

“Tony?” Steve breathed out, arms supporting Tony’s weight as he slumped forward. “Your…um, your pants are ringing.”

“I’ll get new pants,” Tony promised, leaning against Steve for a long moment as his pants sang about being the very model of a modern Major-General.

“I think that misses the point,” Steve observed mildly, but his voice was slightly unsteady, so that made Tony feel better for the fact that a good seventy of his IQ points had just run down to his dick and not yet made it back to his brain. That was just science.  Steve maneuvered him around so he was leaning against the wall, one hand pressing lightly against the arc reactor on his chest for a moment, as if it to keep him in place.  Well, it may have actually been to keep him in place, since as soon as Steve moved to grab Tony’s jeans, picking up a towel from the floor as he did and wrapping it around his torso, Tony started to slump off to the side and slide down the wall.  Standing was really overrated anyway.  At least, his legs certainly thought so.  Steve looked up in time and just wrapped one arm around Tony to keep him upright while he fished Tony’s phone out of the pocket of his discarded wet jeans. 

“Director?” Steve answered. Oh, yeah. Fury.  Eye patch.  Pirate.  Heh. _That was funny_ , Tony thought, shaking his head and grinning like a loon.

Yeah, between exhaustion, that much emotional upheaval and a hand job from Captain America, Tony was pretty well gone.

“Of course, Sir. We’ll be there,” Steve was saying. Why would they be anywhere but here?  That made no sense. The bed was here. The shower was here.  They should just stay here.  Here was good.  “He’s…yes, he’s here.  I’ll…make sure he gets the message,” Steve said, grimacing a bit and blushing again as he studiously did not look at Tony.  “No, Sir.  I’m sure he’ll listen.  I feel confident I can get his attention,” Steve told Fury with a slight smile. 

“Selvig has something cooked up for Loki’s transport back to Asgard. Some way to use the cube to get him and Thor home.  Wants us all to meet at Central Park tomorrow afternoon to make sure everything goes off without a hitch,” Steve informed him, hanging up.  “Tony?” Steve questioned, brow furrowed.

“Loki’s Bon Voyage party, gotcha. I’m there.  Why are you in a towel?  I’m buying only fluffy washcloths from here on out.  Already decided,” Tony slurred. 

“We should probably get to bed,” Steve admitted, picking up the other towel off the floor and handing it to Tony, then giving up and wrapping it around his hips when Tony made no move to take it. 

“That? Is an excellent suggestion,” Tony agreed amiably.

“To sleep,” Steve clarified.

“Not tired,” Tony insisted.

“You can barely stand,” Steve observed, eyeing him fondly.

“Absolutely untrue. I’m not the least bit tired,” Tony argued. “I’m Tony-Fucking-Stark.  Iron Man.  I can go all night.” 

When he woke up twelve hours of solid sleep later, he was wearing a too-big pair of pajama bottoms and an “I heart NYC” shirt with an actual heart on it, how fucking obnoxious, tucked carefully in bed and drooling lightly on a solidly muscled shoulder. He blinked himself awake, inhaling deeply and burrowing his head into the curve of Steve’s arm. 

“Thought you might sleep the day away,” Steve said with a smile in his voice.

“You seem awfully chipper for a person who had an existential crisis not so long ago,” Tony observed, peering up at Steve from his totally not embarrassing at all position of tucked into the curve of Steve’s arm, one leg thrown over Steve’s completely not (barely) rubbing his morning erection against the Steve’s thigh.

“I guess I just like to know what I’m fighting against,” Steve answered. “Or fighting for.”  Tony smiled, not bothering to try to hide it, and rolled on top of Steve.  

“Whaddya say we have a huge breakfast, kick an alien demi-god off the planet and then spend the rest of the day in bed? You know, same kind of day as any other couple?” Tony ventured.

“I say we have a huge breakfast, kick an alien demi-god off the planet and start helping with cleaning up and rebuilding the city said demi-god and his army trashed,” Steve retorted, scooting out from under Tony and moving to get up.

“Oh, you’re going to be all responsible and shit. Make me a better person.  In that case, I’ve changed my mind.  I want out. It’s not you, it’s me, blah, blah, blah,” Tony huffed into the warm, Steve-scented pillow. 

“You’re already a good person, Tony. You don’t need me for that,” Steve replied.  Well, crap.  That was…why did he keep saying stuff like that?  It made Tony’s insides turn to some sort of warm, watery mush that just wanted to curl up into a ball and chant “Steve” over and over again. 

They made pancakes for breakfast. Steve made one that he said was an abstract Iron Man, but Tony thought that while he generally ignored everything Pepper said about the art, that was probably stretching the concept a bit.  Tony made Steve an entire stack shaped like his shield.  Steve gave him a side-eye, but ate every one of them.  They met up with the rest of the Avengers at the outskirts of Central Park as Thor used some kind of glowy pull-toy to send him and Hannibal Loki back home.  Good fucking riddance.   They said brief farewells to the other Avengers, though Bruce climbed into the back of Tony’s car, since he was now living at the Tower at least somewhat permanently.  Depending on how things went with the not turning into a giant green rage monster just because someone ate all the mini-muffins. 

“Ready?” Tony asked lightly, turning to Steve.

“No. But, let’s do it anyway, I suppose,” Steve responded. 

“I mean to go home,” Tony said.

“Home,” Steve repeated, somehow turning the word from a destination into an endearment.

 _You gave me a home,_ the words echoed in Tony’s head.

“Home,” Tony replied, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and pulling him close as he leaned back against the car’s hood, bringing Steve’s mouth down to his.

 _It’s funny how you find what you didn’t know you were looking for_ , Tony thought.  Sometimes you have to go a whole new direction, something that comes out of nowhere, the thing you didn’t plan, didn’t anticipate, some route you never even thought of that leads you on a path you never imagined you’d take. 

Sometimes you have to be lost to find your way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh....wow, okay, so that's how one little random plot bunny turns into some kind of life-sucking epic. Thank you all so much for reading along, particularly for all the comments and kudos. It is so appreciated and encouraging for a writer. Hope you enjoyed the story.
> 
> I reblog Stony stuff on tumblr and sometimes post things when I can figure out how... https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sabrecmc


	18. NSFW Fanart by Superfizz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This, ahem, gorgeous fanart was done by the amazingly talented superfizz. Find more art and info about commission on tumblr at superfizz.tumblr.com.

[](https://www.cweb-pix.com/image/LHG4)


	19. SFW Fanart by Gregory Welter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely breathtaking fanart done by Gregory Welter. Find our more information about art and commissions on tumblr at gregorywelter.tumblr.com. Highly recommend!


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